Saturday, December 24, 2005

i'm in new york!

i've been here since wednesday night, which is why i haven't been able to get to the blog until now. it's been a little rough up here. between the transit strike (which for a sista with two broke toes ain't a good thing) and trying to get around with no car, it has been chaotic.

so now i'm here at my granny's house in brooklyn. we played cards into the wee hours on thursday night. yesterday we just hung out until my uncle came home from the hospital. he's got terminal cancer and his presence here has been disruptive. he has been extremely mean to my granny and it has taken everything in me to not cuss the muthafucka out. i know brotha is dying and i know he's pissed off about it, but the way he treats her is just like he treated her when he was well. he never showed her the love and respect she deserves, always putting his girlfriends and/or wives ahead of her, allowing those women to treat her any kind of way.

my granny is in her fucking EIGHTIES. she has proven to be the epitome of feminine strength. in 1969, her sister died of leukemia. on the way to the funeral, her husband and son were in a car accident that put the husband in a coma. he died six days later. the son, distraught because he was the one driving when the accident occurred, fell into a pit of despair and ultimately became addicted to drugs. my granny would find him dead in her basement two years later. four years after that, my father (another of her sons) was killed in an auto accident. she was left with two sons and a daughter.

and now she's about to bury one more.

despite everything, she has remained true to her faith and has been devoted to her children despite how they act. it has always frustrated me because i would witness the treatment as a child and could do little to prevent or stop it. now that i'm an adult, witnessing my uncle's behavior towards my granny has become fucking INTOLERABLE. the only way i can make the situation better is by taking over his care so she doesn't have to deal with him at all. meanwhile, when we leave, what's gonna happen to her?

you know, i'm trying to be patient here. frankly, i'm not close to my uncle. he has never been mean to me but his treatment of other folk made me not want to get close to him. he's really not all that great of a person. meanwhile, i wonder what i'm supposed to do. he has done alot of dirt in his life. he's left many women to raise his kids alone. he's mistreated his relatives. he's murdered a man (i'll tell that story sometime in the future). in other words, cat has done alot that would justify folk just leaving him to die alone. meanwhile, i know nobody's perfect. i would hope that despite the things i've done in my life that ultimately folk will love me enough to take care of me if i ever need it.

so despite all of the fucked up things this muthafucka has done, i have to find a way to forget it all as i deal with him now. however, i fucking refuse to let him treat my granny any ole kind of way. let a brotha keep trippin. i don't give a shit if he's got cancer, he's gonna be getting cussed out.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

one small step for women, one giant beat down of men who aren't kind

read it and weep, fellas. your girl nikki made it to the championship in one of her fantasy leagues. she will try to defend the title she won last year. she layed the smacketh downeth on this week's opponent, her finishing move "knee to the groan" came on the heels of her "bitch slap" as she came from behind with seven minutes to go in monday night's massacre. trailing by five, with her recently acquired afri-can't hemmed up on the sidelines, she needed her dl brotha to come through like a champ. unfortunately, cat had been hugged up with some fat bastid since the first quarter and had only three tackles up until that point.

nikki was feeling mighty bad, she was feeling mighty low...and then she realized god was trying to tell her something. she turned her attention to the television screen just as her dl brotha, in a fit of pique, sacked green bay's athetically transmitted disease (cuz kid was the gift that kept on giving). that sack was worth FIVE POINTS! nikki treasured those five points like a crackhead treasures a fiver after *gumming down a chocolate stick.

her game now tied, nikki was beginning to feel more confident, but not overly so. if the game ended in a tie, her opponent would go on to win because he had a higher season point total. SHIT!

nikki twitched nervously, her eyes glued to the television, her fingers tweaking her nipples (a nervous habit she had yet to break...and really didn't want to cuz it felt SOOO GOOOOOD), her toes crossed (uh, that's how the broken ones are healing...), and her hopes on dl brotha to come through in the clutch.

and then with a minute to go in the game, the unbelievable happened! the unthinkable thing occurred! a miracle took place before nikki's very eyes!

her dl brotha intercepted a ball and returned it for a touchdown! SIX POINTS! YAY!

with victory now assured, nikki maturbated furiously (yet ANOTHER nervous tick she's loathe be rid of), spanking her clit with glee before bouncing off to bed.

and with that (uh, the win, NOT the nipple tweaking and clit tickling thing), her place in the hall of fame of fantasy league coaches was sealed. she invites you to attend her induction speech to be aired on espn on july 24, 2006. (she'd also like to request assistance in holding down her hands during what will be her most nervous moment ever).

*that's blowjob for all you sexually-challenged folk out there.

the first day of reckoning (finale)

it was the feeling of remembered elation from that day that began making its way through my veins as i stood there in front of renee, surrounded by the girls i was sure were gonna hold me down while she beat me up.

it was the feeling of determination i received from my mom that began surging powerfully through my limbs as i stood there unwilling to allow them to take me down without a fight.

it was the feeling of courage i received from having survived something way worse than renee willing me to drop my books and curl my fingers into tight fists.

and the result of all of those feelings whorling within me was a concoction forming a new emotion - violent anger.

she never even saw it coming. my fist was raised and rounding to slam viciously into her nose before she'd even taken her first hit. the blood exploded from her nostrils, crimson clots splattering to stain both her clothes and mine as the force of the blow knocked her sprawling onto the ground. she was frantically placing her hands over her nose to stop the bleeding when i started kicking her savagely, my mind completely blank as my limbs took over and moved of their own accord. i was screaming as i continued raining kicks on her, her face suddenly became his face and her body became his body.

TAKE THAT YOU SON OF A BITCH! how could you DO that to me??? why did you touch me THERE??? WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU TO DESERVE THAT! YOU BASTARD!

i kept kicking her and kicking her and kicking her. it was like that scene from the godfather where sonny stomped the shit out of connie's husband carlo after he found out carlo beat up on connie. my leg started getting fatigued, but i just kept kicking her crumpled form laying there in the street. my mind wasn't aware of time or space, only of ridding me of the threat to my safety.

i suddenly felt a bunch of hands trying to restrain me. i fought violently to escape them as they grabbed for my arms and legs, trying to stop my momentum. a harsh exclamation pierced through my conscious, then i felt someone place an arm around my waist before lifting me bodily into the air. i was still struggling fiercely when i felt my face being pushed forcefully into someone's chest. my breathing was frantic as i tried to catch the breath that kept escaping the starved grasp of my lungs, closing my eyes to escape to somewhere safe in my mind.

"nikki baby!", she exclaimed frantically, the distress threaded through her voice, causing it to catch on the jagged edges of her fractured composure.

"nikki! NIKKI!" she yelled close to my ear. i felt her arms holding me closely to her as her heart thundered its beat beneath her breast. i was grasping desperately for consciousness, my mind still swimming in a morass of confusion. i took in a deep breath.

and my nostrils were assuaged with the scent of momma.


all i could think of was folding myself into her arms, of making myself so small i could become a molecule and simply evaporate into her skin. i shuddered uncontrollably as i continued inhaling deeply, pulling her into my lungs, hoping she would be the balm i needed to return to the living. slowly the delirium released its hold on my mind as my eyes gradually began to catch focus on my surroundings.

i wearily lifted my head from her chest, glancing around in response to the crying i heard behind me. all four of renee's co-horts were kneeling on the ground around her. my mom, recognizing i was finally calm, let go of me and quickly ran over to check on renee. i stood there, watching detachedly as my mom took over the situation, telling one of the girls to go find renee's mom. i could hear renee's cries of pain breaking through the silence.

i released the breath i didn't know i was holding. she was alive.

i was still standing there when i saw a heavy-set woman running towards us. she forcefully yanked everyone off of renee, including my mom, getting down on both knees to gather renee in her arms.

there was a bunch of yelling after that between renee's mom and mine. i don't even remember what was said because i was still dazed, my mind strapped to the darkness of a utility closet, my hands remembering how he'd grabbed them and forced them to touch his "thing", my body remembering how he pushed me up against the door, knocking the breath out of me and the fear into me as he started yanking on my body, trying to force me to do something i knew nothing about, was too young to know anything about...

my next memory of that day was much later. the sun had set and i was in the living room of our home, staring at my little brother as he just held my hand and returned the stare, his eyes brimming with fear, but his manner one of protectiveness. my mom wasn't there. i found out later she was at renee's house discussing the events and repercussions with renee's parents. even though i kicked renee unmercifully, she only ended up with some deep bruises on her back and side, along with the broken nose from the punch. my mom had to work overtime for three months in order to pay off renee's doctor bills.

they ultimately decided not to press charges. many years later, long after renee and i had become friends, she told me her mom said she got what she deserved for not hitting me first. that declaration left me totally speechless.

my mom would later stick me in counseling so that i could discuss my issues with a professional. thinking back on it, i'm not sure if it helped, as i never really opened up to the psychologist. then again, it would be another three years before i'd find myself in another fight, and that one was in defense of my brother.

that first fight with renee drained me of the emotions that led me to beat her down like that.

first day of reckoning pt.4

nonononononononono! the word was a crying chant in my head. i twisted my body around, quickly sizing up the girls surrounding me. i was still the tallest in the group, but i doubted it would mean much because i had never been in a real fight before, and it was obvious there was gonna be a fight taking place right there and then. i straightened my spine, hoping they would be fooled by the false bravado i tried to convey.

renee started laughing, a note of self-satisfaction turning the sound from her mouth into a cackle. it reminded me of that wicked witch of the west from the wizard of oz.

"girl, you ain't foolin' nobody." she said as she stepped and dug her finger into a point in the middle of my chest, "i can see you're scared."

i inhaled deeply, trying to get a grip on my breathing that was turning into short pants as anxiety clawed at my throat. i couldn't even speak, so i kept silent.

the girls all stepped forward in unison, the circle around me becoming dangerously smaller. i stopped breathing all together, my body flinching as i awaiting what was certainly to occur next. renee sized me up, a sneer curling her lip as she started from the brand new penny loafers i wore and made her way up past my new and neatly pressed blue jeans, the plaid blouse with puffy sleeves hanging tidily from my shoulders, to the brown horn rimmed glasses with lenses that made my brown eyes as big as an owls. from the smirk pressing itself onto her lips, it was obvious i was immediately deduced as no threat to her.

and she was right. despite our difference in height and weight (with me being at a distinct advantage), renee had the one thing i'd never been able to grasp: courage.

that is, until that day. until i had stepped outside of my fear and asked keith to be my boyfriend. however, asking a boy to go steady was a whole lot different than fighting a girl who i was beginning to recognize as the neighborhood bully. i began invisioning just how badly i could get hurt and despite my best efforts to put forth a brave face, my sight grew blurry as my eyes started filling with tears.

and then i remembered a moment i'd had with my mommy a couple of weeks earlier. we had been in the neighborhood for about a week. i had been called into the kitchen to help her put away groceries she had purchased that afternoon. while silently going about the task, i felt her watching me. i glanced up from the refrigerator where i had just put the milk, an inquiring look on my face. she straightened from the counter where she'd been leaning and came across to stand before me. leaning over, she gently cradled my face with her hands and stared into my eyes, her brows furrowed as she made me feel as though she were looking right into me. a moment went by before she spoke.

"i love you, baby girl." she said quietly, then placed a kiss on my nose.

i was surprised and suddenly anxious, as that had come out of nowhere. not that mom wasn't affectionate with me, but usually i could see it coming, like after i'd done something miraculous like keeping my room clean for an entire week or actually not teasing my younger brother unmercifully. this was different, though. i saw sadness in her eyes and i began to panic. ever since my father was killed when i was three, i'd had an intense fear of losing my mommy. my eyes widened as i stared up at her.

"what's wrong, mommy??" i asked, already sensing she was gonna give me some bad news like she had cancer or some other life-threatening disease. her smile was small as she replied.

"nothing, baby. just worried about you, that's all."

"why are you worried mommy?" i whispered the question, cuz now i was beginning to think she was gonna tell me i had cancer or some other life-threatening disease. her smile remained as she continued holding my face in her hands.

"i just want to keep you safe, that's all."

there was an entire library of words hovering in the air between us. i knew what she was thinking about, even though she remained silent. she was thinking of what had happened two years prior. she was thinking of when i had been molested. she was still suffering because she'd been unable to protect me. i was still suffering, too. it was why i had yet to explore our new neighborhood despite the fact we'd been living there for a week. i placed my hands over hers, trying to reassure her as much as a child could reassure an adult, especially when that adult is a single mom who has enough worries without having to wonder constantly if her daughter is being attacked somewhere and she can't get to her.

"mommy, i'm okay." i squeezed her hands to emphasize this. she continued staring down at me, tears glittering in her eyes. then she pulled me close, hugging me so tightly i couldn't breathe, as my face had suddenly been thrusted right into her ample chest. i turned my head to the side and inhaled, my arms coming around to squeeze her just as tightly. tears were gathering in my eyes and falling from my cheeks.

she smelled so good. she smelled like mommy. i kept inhaling deeply, trying to breathe in her strength, trying to capture a little piece of her to hoard for myself.

we stood there for a while, holding each other and saying nothing. then she kissed my head before stepping back. she wiped her eyes and took a steadying breath. then she gazed at me, her face suddenly serious.

"don't ever think you can't talk to me about anything. anything, you hear?"

i nodded vehemently, knowing i had to do everything to relieve her mind of the angst i saw in her eyes. she gave me another quick hug and then walked back to the counter where she grabbed some cans to place in the cupboard. i wasn't sure how long we'd been standing there, but i felt as if a burden had been lifted from my shoulders. i felt as though i could conquer anything, vanquish any enemy. a smile stole itself onto my lips as i stood there and felt my mom's love flowing through me, giving me the foundation i needed to step foward with a sure stride.

after putting the groceries away, i looked over at my mom, the smile still sitting there on my face like it had taken up permanent residence.

"mommy, i'm gonna go outside." she glanced over, a look of worry fleeting across her features before disappearing behind her determination.

"okay baby. remember to stay close, though. we don't know the neighborhood all that well yet."

i nodded, then turned quickly to run out of the house, the screen door slamming behind me as i kept running, stopping once i was outside immersed in the grass on the front lawn. turning my face to the sky, i closed my eyes and stood there, listening to the leaves whisper secrets to each other. then i plopped to the ground and lay down, my eyes still closed.

for the first time in two years, the numbness shelled on surface of my soul was beginning to crumble.

i could feel again the breeze tickling my skin playfully.
i could feel again the blades of grass bending softly to cushion me against the ground.
i could feel again the sun's warmth sinking into me.
i could feel again.

Monday, December 19, 2005


aiight, so the colts lost this weekend. i'm disappointed, because they had a chance to make history. a black coach had a chance to be the only coach since shula in '72 to lead his team to an undefeated season, but they lost, so it's done. that's not why i'm pissed right now, though.

i'm pissed cuz there are a bunch of old-assed ex-football playing has beens who can only get their dicks up after the last undefeated team of the season has gone down in flames. who are these guys?

why, the 1972 dolphins, of course! remember them? of course not! the only time they're even worth mentioning is when a team is still undefeated late into the season. otherwise, mercury morris and the rest of his cronies are only known as the former dope fiend and his cronies.

i find it necessary to aim this rant at the 72 dolphins directly. i will speak loudly, as i'm sure their hearing ability has diminished...

it's THIRTY-THREE FUCKING YEARS LATER, guys. there are GROWN ASS ADULTS out in the world who weren't even a skeet in their momma's cooch when you went undefeated! i'm not trying to diminish your accomplishment, but let's get real here. no team is gonna go undefeated ever again the nfl. why?

because when you guys went undefeated, you didn't have to worry about whether or not your star players would enter free agency at the end of the season. you didn't have to contend with salary-cap restrictions or bitchy agents or primadonna stars other than joe namath. you didn't have defensive linemen weighing as much as the entire population of a country in africa coming at you with the intent of knocking the shit out of you and into your great-great grandkids fifty years from today. the largest player on your team ain't big enough to be the KICKER now. in fact, you were only a couple of years removed from an era when jim brown was swatting you guys off like flies while he ran his big black ass through you towards the end zone. oh, and you only played 14 games you pansies!

when you went undefeated, m.a.s.h. was a fucking PILOT, 'deepthroat' had just swallowed but had yet to spit it out, debbie was just giving blowjobs to guys in alabama and was nowhere NEAR dallas, the jeffersons were still living in the ghetto, and mlk had only been dead four years, so coretta could still remember what a dick in her twat actually felt like!

you guys used to be the playas who were getting all the nubile pussy tossed at you on the daily just cuz you were nfl players. when was the last time that happened to you? just cuz the nursery worker fed you with a clean spoon doesn't mean she's flirting with you! just cuz you paid less at the grocery store doesn't mean you getting the hook up because you're famous! no, you're getting the hook up cuz it's wednesday, which is senior citizens discount day!

why are you coming out to games with all of your bad luck and karma? why are you sitting on your brittle asses in the cold just so you can witness yet another team NOT go undefeated? why are you eating ramen noodles for a month so you can save up enough money to afford the plane ticket to these games?? why are your lives still revolved around something that happened over THIRTY DAMN YEARS AGO???

why are you still trying to be relevant? you're like the *jesse jackson of football teams, desperately seeking out new ways to make yourself important to today's public. do you realize just how sad you're looking right now? do you understand how totally and completely pathetic you're looking when you hobble onto the field as people applaud the fact you didn't fall over dead from the effort? (jesse, are you listening you bastid???)

stop calling in to sports shows to talk about how good your fucking team was and how no other team will ever be that good! you sound like an old toothless pimp with a scratchy crotch trying to convince a crackhead to give him some ass. we KNOW you WERE good. PAST TENSE FELLAS! meanwhile, if we stuck you on the field today, you could be bitch slapped by the water boy!


shit, get some fucking viagra and stop waiting for the last undefeated team to fall before you get your first hard-on of the year! your arthritic hand will thank you for it.

oh, and jesse...this means you, too.

Sunday, December 18, 2005

the first day of reckoning (part 3)

it was a sunny day in september, the first day of school on one of the last days of summer, and i was standing in front of the school next to my very first boyfriend.

we were holding hands, basking in the glow of adolescent adoration. maybe a handful of words had been uttered between us throughout our entire association up to that point. no spoken words were necessary. the feelings vibrated strongly in the air around us and the words were found there, floating between us in silent whispers.

keith was tugging at my hand to get my attention, as my gaze was locked on our intertwined fingers, my mind thirstily drinking in the image of us threaded together so perfectly. my eyes slowly made their way up his body to his face, absorbing the emerald richness of his izod shirt, the collar popped up so that the edges skimmed against his jheri curls. i dared a quick glance at his lips before my gaze crawled up to his eyes. i smiled timidly, unsure of what to say or do. he smiled back.

"where do you live?" he asked as he partially turned to start walking away from the school. i fell in step next to him, feeling the warmth from his hand still enveloping mine.

"my house...," i hesitated trying to remember the name of the street. he turned his head to look at me expectantly.

what? WHERE DO I LIVE???...

" on boulderview." i exclaimed, relief in my voice.


"really?" he answered, "my house is on indian trail." he smiled shyly. my answering smile was equally as shy.

the fact that his house was only a street over from mine confirmed in my mind that this was all predestined as a nine-year-old girl will find anything to confirm that some higher entity played a hand in bring her together with her first love. if there was a crack in the sidewalk, it meant keith and i were meant to be. if the sun set in the west, our love was meant to be. if the sky was blue...well, you get the picture.

i was excited about the idea of us walking home together everyday. my imagination was already way ahead of me as i started envisioning us walking home hand in hand with the flaxen and russet hues of autumn leaves cascading around us in a romantic shower. then the image evolved into one of us wearing heavy coats and wollen caps, our mitten-covered hands clasped tightly as we made our way home while the winter wind howled and bit at our exposed skin. images of us walking home through all of the seasons were racing through my mind as we continued heading towards my house.

we had been walking for about three minutes when the books in my arms started digging into my side awkwardly. i was shifting them into the crook of my arm to better hold them in place when keith noticed what i was doing.

"i can carry those for you." he declared as he stopped to face me. dropping to one knee, he opened his bookbag and reached for my books, placing them in the space next to his own. zipping the bag closed, he stood up, ran his arms through the twin straps, and settled it onto his back. he turned again towards the street and started walking. i quickly fell into step again, my heart doing flips as i realized no boy had ever carried my books for me before. in that moment he became my hero.

then i felt him slide his fingers through mine to resume holding my hand and i bent my head to hide the huge grin that had siezed my features, transforming my face into all teeth and cheeks.

we again started walking home, our pace much slower than the other kids around us. it was as if we were moving in slow motion against a backdrop being fast-forwarded. everyone was running to get home, making chatter about plans for later in the day, lamenting about homework being given on the first day of school, and complaints about summer being over. everyone ignored the tall golden brown boy holding hands with the too tall mud brown girl wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a dreamy grin on her face.

everyone, that is, except for five girls.

as keith and i looked to our right to see if it was okay to cross the street, i glanced over to the sidewalk and noticed renee and four of her cohorts whispering furtively between themselves. my heart hurt a little as i was reminded of how they had dissed me earlier that day during recess.

keith squeezed my hand briefly and i glanced over to notice he was watching the girls, too.

"don't worry about them," he said reassuredly as we crossed the street.

i looked at him, puzzlement marring my features.

"why would i need to worry about them?" i asked as i stole another look in their direction.

"renee can be a bully when she wants to be," he said matter-of-factly.

i didn't say anything. renee was scary, and not only because she was so aggressive. she was also scary because she had so many girls who would follow her lead without a second thought. we continued walking silently as a shiver of trepidation traveled up my spine. just as we were passing his street we heard a yell.

"keith!" a young girl was running towards us. keith's face was cast in instant irritation as he watched her approach. stopping before us, she gave a fleeting look in my direction before turning her attention to keith.

"what is it, joy?" he asked exasperately. he dropped my hand quickly as he grabbed for the straps on his bookbag. joy looked pointedly at him, as if to say she'd seen he'd been holding my hand.

"momma told me to come get you," she said with authority, "we gotta get to the hospital to see ma'dear."

keith shifted his feet, placing his weight onto one leg as his brows came down angrily. his eyes were piercing as he stared at joy.

"tell momma i'll be there in a minute. i've got something to do."

"uh uh! i'm not tellin' her that!" she exclaimed, her mouth agape as her face took on a look of shock, "you betta come on before momma gets you!" she added with a warning in her voice.

i'd been standing there the whole time witnessing the exchange between them. a myriad of emotions played across keith's visage as he tried to cover his embarrassment at being summoned. he remained at a standoff with joy until a blaring sound in the distance caused them both to jump.

"that's momma now!" joy turned around quickly and started retreating down the street. "you betta come on, keith!" she yelled from a distance.

keith turned to me, regret etched in his features.

"i can't walk you home today, nikki." he got down on one knee and opened up his bookbag to pull out my books. once upright, he handed the books to me.

"that's okay," i said, trying to tamper down the disappointment welling in my chest. he stared at me for a moment longer, then leaned over and pressed his lips to my cheek. my eyes grew wide with surprise and my hand immediately went up to cover my cheek. i wanted to capture that kiss in my hand and have it permanently tattooed to my skin.

"i'll see you tomorrow." he promised softly before turning to walk slowly towards his house. the car horn blared again and he started running, his mother's wrath spurring him along.

i watched him until he was a dot in the distance. sighing, i turned and started heading home. i had just made the turn onto my street when i heard a voice coming from behind me.

"do you know what you did, nikki?"

i swiftly turned around and found myself facing renee and her girls. fear lept into my throat and my body seized with alarm as i watched them surround me.

"wh-what did i do?" i stammered out as i clutched my books closer to my chest.

renee moved in closer, menace traced in every step. her face was contorted, animosity illustrated in every unnatural groove found in her countenance. when she stopped, she was so close to me our shoes were almost touching. her hands tightened into fists at her sides as she glared at me with eyes throwing knives meant to cut me up in to little pieces.

"" she said through clenched teeth, each word punctuated with her rising ire. i gasped and stepped back, bumping into one of her co-horts standing behind me. my heart tripped as i remembered a cryptic conversation from earlier in the day.

girl, you betta stop staring at keith like that!

what are you talking about???

all i'm saying is that you need to watch what you're doing.

i stared at renee, the enormity of my actions dawning on my face in a mask of horror.

"y-you like keith??" i whispered with a croak in my voice, my hold on my books so tight the edges were cutting into my skin. renee snorted derisively, the look on her face telling me i had just asked a stupid question.

"he was MINE," she spit out, her eyes narrowing into hate-filled slits. "he was MY boyfriend, and you stole him from me."

my eyes, already wide with fear, widened even more as i realized where this was headed.

Friday, December 16, 2005


i've gotta put the next installment on hold for a day.

i think i broke two toes last night. i wish i could say it happened as a result of me sticking my foot so far up my boss's ass he'll be shitting my toenails for at least a decade, but that wasn't the case. it happened as a result of me running to close the window so i wouldn't miss any portion of my beloved sportscenter.

i ran and slid into homebase, which in this instance turned out to be the shoe shelf. imagine running and then having something sharp jack you right inbetween the legs. yeah, there. in the happy place.

that's how this went down. insert one sharp object between the second and third toe, then have the third toe get hemmed up, crumpling like a corvette crashed into a curb.

going to the doctor now.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

the first day of reckoning (part 2)

he said yes!


he said yes!

i sat there with the note in my hand, staring at the little box with the check written into it. i thought it was the most beautifully penciled check ever created. running my hands over it as if by doing so would confirm it was really there, i was suddenly besieged by a spin-stiffening fear. abruptly i sat straight up in my chair, immediately aware of the fact he was still sitting behind me. i glanced down at the paper i held, noting how it crumpled under the force of my shaking hands. my head remained down as i wondered frantically what this all meant.

hearing him shuffling his body in the seat behind me, my anxiety increased. every cell, every muscle, every bone in my body stilled as i felt his eyes studying me from behind. i was too afraid to even turn around to acknowledge his presence. instead i forced myself to calm down, inhaling air into my lungs with deliberate slowness while i refolded the note and placed it on the desk before me. picking up my history book, i tried to focus on the words that had now become an incoherent crush of indicipherable characters. my brows furrowed as i squinted my eyes, determined to wrap my mind into the text on the page.

it didn't work. keith's face was playing in my mind like a movie, his wide smile inviting me to share in the secret dashing like a wood nymph through the twinkle in his eyes. again i was lost in the daydream, the world now comprised only of keith wearing a green t-shirt, a grin, and golden brown skin.

"okay, children! time's up!"

the teacher's loud declaration snapped me violently from my inner thoughts. i jumped in my seat, the book tilting into my lap before falling to the floor, creating a deafening slapping sound that echoed through the room like a small explosion. every set of eyes in the room turned in my direction. i was momentarily too shocked to move. then, with a growing embarassment crawling through me like an invading virus, i quickly leaned over, stretching my hand out to pick up the book.

and slammed my hand hard into keith's cheek.

he had already gotten out of his seat to retrieve the book and was in the process of handing it to me when my hand wacked him in the face.

a look of complete horror twisted my face as my mouth fell open and a strangled squeak was emitted from my lips. quickly i closed my mouth. the room was so silent i could hear the shuffling of chairs in the classroom next door. he sat there rubbing his cheek, a look of puzzlement scattering across his features as he placed the book into my hand.

after a moment that felt more like a month, i opened my mouth.

"th-thank you," i stammered out.

the squeaky quality of my voice wasn't as high-pitched as before, but i cringed at the sound of it none the less. he just nodded, eyeing me cautiously as he backed up and slid into his seat behind me.

turning to face the blackboard as the teacher started talking, i felt as though i had just exposed to keith every single defect i'd ever had in my life. my boat-like feet, my blurry vision, my chipped front tooth now covered with a cap, my adolescent awkwardness, my painful shyness, my inability to speak coherently when i was nervous...all of these flaws and more were suddenly put on a spotlighted display for his perusal and dismissal. my heart sank as i contemplated what would happen.

it's over it's over it's over it's over!

he's going to break up with me!

the words looped over and over in my head.

a short time later the school bell rang, signalling it was time to go home. i stayed planted in my seat as the other kids gathered and walked out of the room. i was still seated when i heard keith stand up from the desk behind me. my eyes remained foward, my body taut as i anticipated what he was going to say. as he stood next to me, he leaned over to speak.

"we have to talk," he whispered into my ear, "meet me out in front of the school."

i turned to look at him, nodding in acquiescence. he walked past me and left the room. i finally got up, gathered my books, and trudged slowly out of the door. once outside in the hallway, i was overwhelmed by sadness over a loss of something i never got a chance to savor. blindly i made my way to the entrance doors of the school, not noticing the kids around me as they brushed and bumped up against me in their eagerness to get home.

soon i was outside and standing beneath the brightness of the september sun, looking around for a place in the shade. finding one, i headed to a tree and stood there beneath the low hanging branches.

and waited.

the seventh grade safety patrollers were ushering kids onto the waiting schoolbuses. chidren were dashing everywhere, the common direction being away from the school. as i stood and waited for keith, my mind kept running through the events that had taken place earlier. each detail of each excruciatingly embarrassing moment was dissected meticulously, my flaws staining every one of them like blood on a perfectly white blouse. in the end, i'd come to the conclusion i was a clumsy idiot. i was mentally berating myself when keith walked over to me.

"hi, nikki."

i looked up swiftly and made eye contact, the anxiety and self-hatred i was feeling was boiling within me and i was a rattling teapot, the spout on the verge of exploding with a loud whistle of discontent.

"hi," i whispered, afraid the squeaking would return.

i didn't say anything more. i wasn't sure anything else could be said at that point. my heart started hammering in my chest while dread was a cloak over my stiffened stance. keith silently stared into my eyes, as if he was trying to read all the secrets etched onto the walls of the caverns in my soul. i stared at him, frantically trying to remain calm as my heart continued beating so fast it had become one long beat that didn't have an ending.

there was more silence as neither one of us spoke. we just stared at each other like we were both reaching for something only found deeply embedded in the other. i was lost, incapable of blinking or thinking, only of sinking into his spirit with a nine-year-old girl's eagerness.

i felt something brushing against my hand.

looking down, i saw he was reaching for it with his own. he carefully threaded his golden brown nutmeg through my cinnamon, creating a sweet confection of adolescent affection. he clasped my fingers close so that our hands met palm to palm, and for the first time, i begin to feel the nervousness recede and the hope take seed. i glanced up. his cocoa-colored eyes fringed with thick black lashes were gazing into mine searchingly, spreading a warmth through me like a sip of 'swiss miss' on a cold winter morning. a dimple formed in his left cheek as his lips lifted and spread into a beautiful, toothy smile.

a beautiful, toothy smile just for me.


next installment: first day of reckoning, part 3.

the first day of reckoning

it was my first day at a brand new school and i was being shown around by the one friend i'd made that day. her name was renee and she was everything i was not, daring and fearless and aggressive, wielding all of the confidence of a ten year old goddess. renee was shorter than me and at least 20 pounds lighter, but she commanded my respect for her fire as she blew through the halls, setting ablaze everything in her path with a combination of dry wit kindled with a quick intelligence. as an introverted, studious nine-year-old, i was immediately in awe, attaching myself to the line behind her already comprised of a bunch of girls who were also both fascinated yet fearful of her dynamic demeanor. by the time school let out for recess, i was sure she could beat up every guy in our neighborhood with one hand tied behind her back.

as we stepped into the sunshine and made our way down the steep hill towards the activity field, i kept my eyes to the ground to make sure i didn't trip over anything, as i had been known in my previous school as the girl most likely to trip over a miniscule crack in the sidewalk or an inch high blade of grass. i'd had too many embarrassing memories of falling on my face or my behind, tearing brand new outfits or old favorites in the process, and was determined to leave that all behind and establish a new identity at my new school.

when we reached the level ground of the field, i looked up to see what was going on around me.

and stopped dead still when i saw him standing across the field.

he was taller than all of the boys encircling him. his skin had been kissed golden by the sun, the emerald color of his izod shirt gleamed an even richer hue against the stark white of his shorts. his hair was cut into a short fro, coiled and shining from a liberal dose of jheri curl spray.(don't laugh! y'all know that was the shit back in the day.)

it was obvious he was holding court, as all eyes in his group were on him while he made grand gestures with his arms and hands. i wasn't sure what he was doing. all i was sure of was the fact that my heart had started beating so fast, i was sure it was going to vibrate itself right out of my body. my eyes grew wide and my mouth dropped as i continued staring at him.

one of the girls next to me noticed me staring at him.

"girl," she started in a low voice, a warning in her tone, "you betta stop staring at keith like that!"

i turned to her in surprise, embarrassed she had witnessed my open adoration of him.

"what are you talking about?" i asked, forcing indifference into my voice and stance, "i wasn't staring at anybody."

her lips twisted into a cynical smirk as she lifted one of her brows before speaking.

"i saw you staring at keith," she said in an accusing whisper, "and you better stop before you get in trouble!"

i held her censuring look, perplexion spreading across my face to invade my eyes. squinting at her, i pursed my lips.

"what are you talking about???" my voice was raising as i grew frustrated with her vague warnings. the other girls took note of our heated exchange, sensing the tension erupting between us.

her eyes were slit angrily, body stiff as she responded between clenched teeth.

"all i'm saying is that you need to watch what you're doing."

turning, she walked away from me. i stood there alone trying to figure out what she meant. none of the other girls bothered to enlighten me, instead choosing to follow her as she made her way to stand next to renee. i shrugged in defiance to hide my hurt at being suddenly deserted before turning to continue my visual worshipping of keith.

by this time he was sprinted swiftly across the field, a football tucked into the crook of his arm as he deftly dodged past the leaping bodies trying to tackle him before he reached the imaginary goal line. i came up with all kinds of silly, romantic phrases to describe him.

he has the grace of a gazelle!

his arms look so strong! they would make anybody wrapped in them feel so safe!

his hair is beautiful and shiny like onyx stones! (yeah, the nerdy girl was pulling out the vocab words...)

my eyes grew dreamy with fantasies of him running to me before sweeping me into his arms and kissing me into a giggling mass of girlish glee. i got lost in the mental image, completely oblivious to my surroundings, so i didn't notice he was no longer running across the field and was instead standing right in front of me. i was still gazing unfocusingly at some trees across from me when he spoke.


i snapped back to the present, my eyes suddenly focusing in on the coffee-colored eyes fringed with thick black lashes gazing at me intently. gasping, i took a step back, tripping over my own feet as surprise registered on my face.

"whoa!" he reached over quickly to grab my arm as i started falling backwards, pulling me back into a standing position while he continued to look at me with a smile in his eyes and a welcoming slant to his mouth. a moment went by before i had gathered my nerves to respond.

"uh, hello" i spoke, my voice a squeak betraying my sudden nervousness.

his grin widened.

"my name's keith." extending his hand to me, he continued, "what's yours?"

i stared at his hand with eye widened in shock. slowly, i held out my hand as he grabbed it in a friendly handshake. i swallowed slowly to keep the butterflies from flying out of my mouth.

"i'm nikki."

he continued shaking my hand as he spoke.

"nice to meet you nikki!"

then he leaned down before me to pick up the football that had landed at my feet, turned towards the field and ran back to his boys. my eyes followed him feverishly, my hands suddenly clammy as i wiped them on my jeans. glancing to my left, i noticed the group of girls standing quietly, their faces ranging from pinched expressions of anger to purposefully vacant expressions of dismissal. i continued standing there, the discomfort of the situation making my muscles tense and my stance straighten. i broke up the staring contest by turning and walking to a group of trees lining the field. sitting down, i turned my attention to the boys on the field, making a point of keeping my gaze off of keith. i could feel the eyes of the group of girls burning into my back as i continued pretending i didn't notice them.

the school bell rang fifteen minutes later and our teachers ran out onto the field to gather us into lines before marching us back up the hill and into the school hallway. as i made my way back to the classroom, i was besieged with a strong yearning. it was a yearning that would make me brave enough to make a move i had never before made in my life.

sitting down at my desk, i pulled out a sheet of paper and started writing.

dear keith,

i know we have only just met, but i wanted to let you know i think you are really nice. i like you alot. will you be my boyfriend?
(i drew in two squares, writing 'yes' and 'no' next to them)



finishing the note, i folded it, placed it in my pocket, and opened the book we were reading during social studies period. when the bell rang signaling the end of the period, i got up and walked out into the hallway to stand anxiously next to the door.

and then i waited.

when i saw keith's head above the throng of bodies moving swiftly to their next classes, i started walking towards him slowly, my heart thundering in my chest, my breath coming in panicky bursts as i tried to get air into my suddenly constricted lungs. i planted myself right in front of him, blocking his path. his eyes, focused initially on his friends talking to him, turned to me as he noticed me before him. he stopped in his tracks.

he looked at me expectantly.

"nikki, right?"

he was smiling.

my heart stopped.

i nodded dumbly, too afraid to move any other part of my body.

there was silence in the immediate vicinity while his friends looked at me standing in their way. keith was still smiling, but he didn't say anything further. he just stood there as if he knew what was going to happen.

opening my mouth to speak, i closed it quickly, instead sticking my hand frantically into my pocket, clumsily yanking at the folded note that had suddenly grown hooks and was now stuck to my jeans. once i had the note out, i practically shoved it into his hand.

and then i turned and ran.

i ran to my next class, holding my breath until i crossed the threshold before finally exhaling in a loud cough, bending over to grab at my stomach as i desperately tried to catch my breath. as i continued gasping, i stagged exhaustedly towards the first seat right inside the door next to the wall. it was then i noticed the eyes of all of the kids already in the room were on me, staring at me. there was some mumbling, but no one said anything to me directly. i fell into the seat, breathing deeply and finally getting a grip on my wild emotions. placing my head on my desk, i closed my eyes and waited for the class to start.

three minutes later the teacher walked into the room and class began. i picked my head up off of the desk and opened my book as the teacher was turning to the blackboard to write down the day's lesson plan. ten minutes into class, we were instructed to read silently until the question and answer session towards the end of the period. sliding down into my seat to find a more comfortable position, i tilted my book towards me and started reading.

i felt a tap on my shoulder. i turned around and looked straight into coffee-colored eyes fringed with long black lashes. my eyes widened again as i almost jumped out of my skin. he didn't say a word, just slid a folded piece of paper into my hand before sitting back to pick up his book. i slowly turned forward, suddenly aware of every molecule in the air, every cell in my body, ever piece of fiber threaded in the clothes i was wearing. unfolding the paper with shaking hands, i closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

opening one eye slowly, i peeped down and recognized my handwriting on the paper.

i quickly closed the eye.

slowly opening it again, i glanced down to the the boxes i had drawn on the paper.

he had checked the box next to 'yes'.

tomorrow's installment: the second day of reckoning

Tuesday, December 13, 2005

first and ten

he's got his hands hovering intently beneath a big set of asscheeks. the eyes of his teammates are on him as he tries to decide what move to make. he's delaying the game as he frantically tries to figure out a strategy.

he decides to run the wish(ta)bone attack, seeking to relentlessly wear down her defenses with his option passes in hopes of creating a one on one matchup...

aiight, he says to himself. here goes...


he moves in closer...


he turns towards her...


he opens his mouth to speak...


"hi," he says, extending his hand to her from where it was hovering beneath her ass, "my name is karim."

first impression and ten minutes to march through her defenses towards one of three outcomes:

1. a 'touching her down there'
2. a 'feel her pot o'gold', or
3. a stop at the goal line and a 0% success rate in the 'i woulda got some head' zone.

it's simple, really. women know within the first ten minutes if we're inclined to give you the pussy. by the time the ten minutes are up we have already sliced and diced you twenty different ways, disecting every bit of information you've given us about you. you are then either banished to 'onlyfriendsville' or wisked away on a first class trip to 'getting some ass island'.

while you're standing next to us contemplating your strategy, we are checking out what you are wearing and how the cloths fall on your body. as you state your name we are covertly sniffing your breath to make sure you don't have some poor animal's dead carcass rotting in your mouth. another slow sniff confirms whether or not you wash your ass at least once a day. your handshake gives us a chance to feel the strength or lack thereof in your fingers, whether or not they're gentle enough to stroke the clit or squeeze the tits just right.

as you stand before us beginning your wish(ta)bone attack, we're discretely checking out the options package between your legs and envisioning you naked. we're peeping the lips to see how kissable they are and glancing quickly at your tongue to see just how often you let it out to play. your teeth are counted and checked for cleanliness and absence of food particles or plaque wedged between them. when we make eye contact, it's not just to assert our confidence, it's also to make sure yours aren't bloodshot or glazed over with too much drink or drug.

and that's just the first three minutes. fail on any of these things and you're looking at fourth and long. however, if you've anticipated the defensive scheme while huddled in the corner or better yet, pulled a peyton and adjusted your offense at the initial introduction to best exploit the weaknesses in her defense, you've earned yourself a fresh new set of downs.

tomorrow's installment: next set of downs: when the cover 2 defense can work in your favor

why i'm against capital punishment

cuz folk ain't perfect.
the end.*

*take THAT brooklynbabe!

Monday, December 12, 2005

folks just folks, i guess

so yesterday i'm back at the grocery store to pick up a few items for dinner. after grabbing some salmon to grill and a couple of veggies, i head for the shortest checkout line. i end up in back of a sista who's looking at the candy shelf evidently trying to decide whether she should go with the m&ms or the hershey chocolate bar. i grab a plastic separator, place it on the grocery belt, and drop my items there. it was then i noticed the older gentleman in front of the sista in front of me.

he looked to be in his late sixties, his skin pale and paper thin, the veins beneath them like dark green wiring webbed across his features. his stature was short and he wasn bent over just a little. hair the color of grey going on white was standing on end from the few places it existed on his head.

he barely registered in my mind, but then old people have a way of fading into the background unless they're falling to the ground in the throes of death.

it wasn't until the cashier started getting a little loud that i glanced over again to see what was happening.

"sir," the cashier stated, exasperation in her voice, "your card wasn't authorized. that's what i'm trying to explain to you."

he leaned over to the credit card/debit card keypad, squinted his eyes, and attempted to read the word 'declined' displayed on the screen.

"i don't understand," he whispered to himself, confusion causing him to crumple his face in thought, his card still in his hand.

"sir," the cashier said, starting slowly as she tried to get a grip on her patience, "this card was not authorized. do you have another one?"

"but that cannot be!" he exclaimed, waving his card in his hand as he continued, "i was told i had money on this card!"

at this point, the line was starting to back up. the woman standing behind me was bottle blond and petite. as she grabbed another plastic separator and stuck it behind my items, she huffed impatiently before placing her freshly packaged filet mignon on the belt. the shine on her professionally manicured fingers was dull in comparision to the blinging rings on her fingers.

"lord," i heard her mutter to herself, "i don't have time for this shit."

turning to seen how many people were behind me, i was shocked to see how long the line had become in such a short time. people had begun shuffling their feet impatiently and the disgruntled mumblings were getting louder. i turned back around to see the older gentleman at the front was anxiously trying to follow what the cashier was telling him.

"miss," he cut her off as she tried to explain yet again that his card had been declined, "i don't understand why it's not working. i have money on this card!"

he ran his card through the machine again. as he did so, the cashier walked him through the process just to make sure he did everything correctly.

"okay, now put in your pin number, sir."

after he punched in the digits, the cashier leaned over to view the display screen on the keypad. a few seconds later, she sighed and leaned back.

"sir, it was declined again."

the gentleman's face turned red with embarrassment. he opened his mouth to speak, but only formed a few sounds of disbelief, his eyes glazed with fear and befuddlement. i stood watching the scene before me, my heart constricting as i watched the old man standing there frantically trying to assess the situation. it was obvious he had no idea of what to do next.

as he stood there looking on the verge of tears, babbling incoherently about how he couldn't understand why his card was working, i again looked around, noticing how folks were getting more pissed at the delay. someone suggested rather loudly for the cashier to tell the old man to get out of the line so other folks could pay for their stuff. when i looked back to see who the suggestion came from, all i could see was a bunch of folks standing there in back of their buggies, more concerned with getting to where ever the fuck they had to get to than about the old guy having difficulty in the front. the cashier flagged down one of her co-workers and told her to go get the manager.

reigning in my escalating anger, i walked around the sista ahead of me and saw the total for his purchase on the keypad. reaching into my wallet, i pulled out my debit card and discretely waved it at the cashier. i mouthed for her to put it on my card. she leaned over, grabbed it, and ran the amount through. when the receipt printed, she handed it to the gentleman.

"okay sir, you're ready to go," the cashier stated to him. he looked at her like he didn't understand what she was telling him. the cashier tried again.

"sir," she started, this time her agitation plainly heard in her voice, "you're fine now. your food has been paid for. you can leave."

he looked around, tears gathering in his eyes as he did so. the cashier pointed to me.

"thank that lady there for paying for your purchases, sir."

he started gasping a little as he tried to figure out the words to say. as the manager came up to assist him, he whispered a thank you without making eye contact. then he turned to gather his things before turning to accept the assistance of the manager. they then headed over to the customer service desk.

with the situation resolved, i could hear everyone breathe a sigh of relief. the tension in the vacinity immediately dispersed. when it was time to ring up my items, no words were exchanged between the cashier and i other than the regular mundane things folk say to other folk while being rung up.

grabbing my bag, i looked back to see if the old gentleman was okay. part of me wanted to walk to him to make sure for myself. part of me was unsure if it was wise to make the episode more than it was. i decided to just leave.

as i drove home, i pondered how difficult it is to discern how much assistance to give folk without damaging their pride. it's especially challenging as a black woman because frankly, i'm not sure if a white person is all that willing to accept assistance from me. i keep remember the episode of the jeffersons when the white guy received help from george and the guy said he'd rather they had let him die. the race issue has a way of really complicating shit.

i just hope that when i'm that guy's age, someone will look out for me if i'm in a situation like that, not because i'm black, but because i'm a human being in need of help.

Saturday, December 10, 2005


he stood naked on stage, stripped of pretension and secrets, his mouth an open wound from which the gore of his life pored in angry, expletive-filled exclamations of his defiance against convention. when he first got into the biz, he tried to be that middle-class nigger his white audience wanted him to be. he talked about ‘safe’ things like religion and farts, topics that had his audience breathing a sigh of relief. “whew! niggers ARE happy!”

then something snapped. perhaps it was his nigger experience in america finally bursting through the seams of his composure like bullets blasting through bullshit. no, black folk WEREN’T content. we weren’t living middle-class lives where the only trouble plaguing our minds was how to handle all the fucking happiness. Richard was one of the first black comedians who started giving less of a fuck about how people would respond to his humor and more of a fuck about just telling the truth, with all of its pain and horror and discomfort. it couldn’t have been easy for him, but luckily he was just courageous enough to do it.

the first time i saw richard pryor, it was on the cover of his 'is it something i said?' album. my parents had tucked it in the back of their album collection, as if that was gonna prevent me from finding it. i found it, but the image disturbed me. what kid isn't gonna be frightened by a photo of a black guy about to be attacked by a bunch of folk in black hooded robes? frankly, i thought it was some kind of devil worshipping thing, and i started to wonder about the sanity of my parents. i didn't hear the album itself until i was much older.

he didn't really affect me much as a kid, as i only peeped him in movies like 'silver streak' and 'bustin' loose'. he was the funny black guy who always seemed like he was just a little off. the 'off' was the drugs, but i didn't know it at the time. it wasn't until i reached adulthood that i was exposed to the 'real' richard pryor. by this time, he had already had the free-basing incident where he'd set himself on fire. he courageously joked about it in his stand-up routines, discussing his struggles with drug addiction so matter-of-factly, it was like the brotha was talking about the weather instead of how his addiction to cocaine had nearly cost him his life.

his candor about such an event was what made me fall in love with richard. he kept it raw and real, his foilbles the link of human frailty between he and his audience. he was no longer a young boy living in a brothel being raised by prostitutes. he was a grown man living with the scars of his childhood, talking about the new self-inflicted wounds of his adulthood, exposing all of them to the world for others to both laugh at and relate to.

i'm not a stand-up comedian. i don't make my money by telling jokes or acting in movies, so richard's influence upon me isn't from those aspects of his life. my lessons come from his character. he showed me that the black experience in america, while full of unfair obstacles, turned many of us into fighters instead of quitters. he showed me that it's aiight to be black and mad and really not give a fuck about who that would offend. through his example he gave me the courage to lay out my own pain and vulnerability for others to laugh at and relate to. from him i gained the understanding my mistakes and embarrasing moments aren't something to be secreted away in the mind, never to be thought of again. the exposure of these moments are the opportunity for others to see them and learn from them and find the fortitude necessary to view their own 'failings' not as imperfections but as things that make them uniquely gifted. not everyone will get that, but at least one person will.

and for that one person who gets it, i will continue to find the courage to speak of my life as candidly as possible.

thank you for that, mr. pryor.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

it goes in threes

my girl bajanqueen tagged me for this, so here goes:

3 screen names I have:
1. sensual_rhythm - yahoo
2. naturalblaquegal - aol
3. iniquitious_lyric - msn

3 physical things I like about myself: all three thick
1. my luscious lips
2. My bodacious ass
3. My lovely legs

3 physical things I don't like about myself:
1. my feet. they're fucking huge AND wide
2. my ass can't seem to stay one size
3. my fingernails like to break constantly

3 parts of my heritage:
1. african
2. american indian
3. nothing else i know of

3 of my everyday essentials:
1. a book
2. a blog
3. all the espn channels

3 of my favorite musicians:
1. frank sinatra (YEAH, I SAID IT)
2. nina simone
3. marvin gaye

3 of my favorite songs:
1. distant lover (live version) marvin gaye
2. four women - nina simone
3. mighty, mighty - earth, wind, and fire

3 things I want in a relationship: DAMN...ONLY THREE???
1. commitment
2. honesty
3. love
and mind-blowing sex, damnit

3 lies:
1. i came, really i did.
2. i don't mind you having a small dick, really.
3. you don't eat pussy? that's cool.

3 of my hobbies right now:
1. writing
2. reading
3. computer graphics

3 things I want to do really badly now (with a special someone):
1. be in love
2. suck a pretty dick
3. have back-breaking sex

3 careers I've considered doing:
1. teacher
2. non-profit administrator
3. writer

3 places I would like to go on vacation to:
1. egypt
2. hawaii
3. brazil

3 kid's names I like:
1. malik
2. aswad
3. somai

3 ways that I'm a stereotypical guy/girl:
1. i'm not the sterotypical girl in any way, really

3 people I would like to see take this quiz:
1. hassan
2. rell
3. georgiapeach

the anal sex incident

uh, it's a bit explicit for this side, so i've got it on the poetry side. PROCEED ONLY IF YOU'RE NOT EASILY OFFENDED.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

the double standard of entering and exiting

i had just farted. and it wasn't the kind of fart where you go "whew! that didn't smell too bad..." was the kind of fart that make you say out loud to yourself "DAYUM, that shit STINKS!", which is normally not all that bad when you're by yourself.

i was on the elevator at the time. luckily, i was also by myself, which was why i thought it was aiight to let it out, cuz my stomach started cramping and i really couldn't hold it in much longer. after scrunching up my face in distaste at the straight up rankness that had just been emitted from my ass, i backed up to the wall, hoping to escape the smell. then i forgot...farts follow. that smell followed me straight to the corner of the elevator.

and then the elevator stopped and the doors opened.

and he was standing there.


malik had just recently been hired and was working in the mailroom. the mailroom at my job is also known as the only place where a black man can find employment here and there was no denying the straight up, bonafide beauty of the black man standing in front of me at the entrance of the elevator.

the same elevator where i had just a minute ago let loose the kind of fart that smelled like something had crawled up into my ass and died.

i cringed inwardly as i watched him step into the elevator.

"wassup," he said, his eyebrow lifted in query as he watched me plant my ass firmly against the wall. i nodded with fake confidence, too embarrassed to say anything else, cuz i knew in a second he was gonna smell the fart of all farts.

turning to hit the button to the floor he was getting off on, i heard him take in a deep breath. i was facing his back when the moment came.

the moment when the air from the dead animal in my ass made it past his nostrils to burn the lining in his stomach.

i saw his shoulders stiffen and his frame become ramrod straight. i pressed my ass even more closely to the wall, as if the damage hadn't already been done. damn you asshole! this is all your fault!

now i've had various body parts fail me in the past during crucial moments. dry vagina during sex, blurry eyes while driving, hands that drop expensive vases on the floor, forgetting which floor i lived on...these things i was used to. but my anus had always been the one part of my anatomy that had never let me down. until now.

in the past, my "a-orafice" had come through for me like a champ, like the time when i ate a four omlette breakfast with a glass of prune juice (my grandma, y'all) and then had to make it through a four hour funeral with no bathroom in sight. that day, she was like fort knox! she was bolted down between buns of steel and she didn't let SHIT out.

then there were the numerous times when i had to fart while i was giving presentations. for some reason, whenever i'm about to do a public speaking engagement, gas just suddenly forms in my ass and i have to fart. i know it has to do with my nerves, but da hell does that happen???

anyway, so as i said, my "a-orafice" had my back when it counted, but not on this day. on this day, i was standing behind the finest brotha in the building, realizing he hadn't taken a breath since he first got on the elevator, knowing that whatever play i thought i was gonna get from him had vanished into thin air, the fart having killed it.

that was the longest minute of my life. we both held to our places in silence. he never turned towards me and i never pulled my ass from the wall as i stood in back of him. when the doors finally opened onto his floor, he practically jumped out of the elevator. he didn't even say goodbye.

but as the doors closed, i could hear him gasping as he tried to catch some air after holding his breath for the entire elevator ride.

i frantically started flapping my arms around, hoping to disperse the heinous smell still sitting in the air like a dirty ass on a clean couch. by the time i reached my floor, my arms were killing me.

the next time i saw malik was three weeks later at a department function. he saw me coming and discreetly turned to walk in the opposite direction.

i learned a lesson there. guys have no problem sticking a dick in your ass, but they have little tolerance for anything coming out of it.

Monday, December 05, 2005

monday meme - it's in the jeans

picked up this list of questions from my boy trent's blog. figure i'd answer 'em.

1. What musician looks best in a pair of blue jeans?

as much as i dislike the brotha, i've gotta go with 50 cent on this one. he's got the sculpted form that looks great in a pair of jeans. now if he would only shut the fuck up. he's the kind of brotha a sista fuck in the dark with a muzzle on his mouth.

2. We all have a favorite pair of jeans. They're a little worn out, but not too much. They fit like a glove, and they're our first choice when we're having a wardrobe dilemma. What song, album and/or artist is your favorite "pair of blue jeans"?

miles davis' 'birth of cool' album is the ultimate expression of what jeans feel to the person wearing them and the one touching the one wearing them.

the first cut 'move' where his trumpet cascades up and down the chords like hands roving restlessly over a pair of jean-encased thighs, curving over hips, sliding over thighs, cupping the ass like he's laying claim on what he's got in his hands.

then, once his fingers are no longer restless with the anticipation of the initial touching, his trumpet explores the form with more intricate detail. on the next cut 'jeru' he repeats the caresses, only this time more slowly, as if he's memorizing every fiber and how they are woven together to fall perfectly from her form. each note he expells finds a different crease, and he rejoices with the discovery of each one. just imagining what's under the jeans has him clenching and unclenching his hands, softly and then more loudly demanding with his fingers what he wants from her.

at this point, the third cut is her response to his caress and his reaction to her response. 'moon dream' is her invitation for him to slide his fingers past the waistband of the jeans to delve into the secrets (and what secretes) from within the jeans. miles' notes are low, and linger like he's longing to stay a while longer inside those jeans.

'venus de milo' is him worshiping the treasure he finds in her form encased in the jeans with his fingers and tongue and lips...oh shit.

aiight, enough...this is making me horny.

3. Blue jeans are gritty, sometimes dirty, and useful in many different situations, and classic as Mom and Apple Pie. Name an artist or two whose voice you think fits that description.

i gotta go with tupac. his voice went from commanding yet questioning on 'how do you want it' to playful yet pimping on 'i get around' to straight up dirty on 'run tha streetz' to sensitive and insightful on 'i ain't mad at 'cha'

versatile, a little beat up, and long-lasting, just like my favorite pair of jeans.

Random question:

4. You're at your local mall, doing Christmas shopping. It's been a long day, you're tired, you can't find what you need, and the lines are outrageously long, slow and filled with rude people. You desperately need a song, THAT song, the song that puts you in a good mood no matter how bad things are. What song do you want blaring out of the mall speakers at that exact moment?

donny hathaway's 'this christmas of course! followed closely by bebe and cece winan's 'jingle bells' and whitney houston's 'joy to the world'.

masturbation - the dirty word

i pleasure myself. i stroke my kitty. i finger my vagina. i kiss my titties. i stick a battery-powered dildo in my twat.

in other words, i masturbate.

so what?

why is this seen as such a dirty thing? we're talking about one of the best things that ever happened to a person's vagina or penis. masturbation is almost perfect sex. at the very least it guarantees you're gonna get yours cuz for once, you're not dealing with a selfish lover. think about it...have you ever denied yourself the splendor of an orgasm because you fell asleep or you didn't know exactly where to put your hand to get yourself off? wait a sec...i do remember falling asleep on myself once, but that was cuz i was more tired than horny and although i started with enthusiasm, i woke up to find my finger still sitting on my clit, but that's another tale...

so really, what's the big deal about masturbation? i find it extremely sexy to watch a man masturbate. shit, it takes the work off of my hands. all i gotta do is lay there and watch him. i don't have to worry about getting cramps in my neck or lips or hands. meanwhile, i've only had one boyfriend let me watch him. all of the other men i've dated looked at me like i was insane when i asked them to masturbate in front of me. it's like i was asking them to pluck out their pubic hairs or something.

folks don't want to admit they masturbate. i think it's because to admit to masturbating means to admit you're not getting enough sex to fulfill your sexual needs. i think that's bullshit. there are plenty of folk who have satisfying sex all of the time and they still masturbate.

then there are the folks who don't want to admit to masturbating because of religious reasons. i have no response to that other than to say masturbating is the safest sex out there (unless you've got cooties on your hands).

i asked a previous boyfriend why he wouldn't masturbate in front of me. he told me it was because the act was personal. he said he was uncomfortable with the idea of me watching him stroke himself because i'd be able to see him at his most vulnerable moment.

the thing is, masturbation can be a powerful tool used to teach your lover how to make love to you correctly.

guys, you can see exactly where and how she places her finger on her vagina, the pressure she uses, the kind of strokes she employs on her clit, even how much friction is necessary in order for her to have an orgasm. you can find out all the secrets to her body just by watching where she places her hands because who knows better than her what gets her off?

and for that matter, you guys should really let the sistas check you out when you yank the monkey. sure, sistas know it really doesn't take much for you to have an orgasm while having intercourse, but we could learn how to give you the perfect blowjob by watching you masturbate. we can see where all of the sensitive spots to your penis are, how much pressure to place on those spots with our tongues, whether or not we're wasting our time by venturing to the scrotum (some guys aren't pressed with scrotum-fondling) and best of all, we can be there to swallow when you're ready to shoot.

i have actually used this argument many times to justify me watching a brotha masturbate. all of them except one still said no. as for the one who said yes...i still have fond memories of those moments and i'll be writing about that in the poetry blog (i don't want to get too explicit here, but i'm grinning my ass off thinking about it.)

masturbating isn't a bad thing. doing it in front of someone isn't a bad thing (unless that person is a stranger or a child, in which case, you're a perv of the worst sort). i say we designate december as masturbation month and commit to doing so at least once a week for four weeks. think of all the stress you can release in the process! when you find yourself at a party where you've just been told by at least two relatives that you've gained weight, quietly excuse yourself, head to the nearest bathroom, and handle yours. you'll be much more agreeable and willing to accept veiled insults with a satisfied smile on your face.

so take your pleasure into your own hands, folks! masturbate, and be proud of it! yank your monkey! jerk your turkey! slap the dog! tickle the clit! smack the lips! whatever you call it, just do it!

oh, and don't forget to let your lover check you out every now and again. that makes for a win-win situation.

Sunday, December 04, 2005

mack daddies don't get old...they just marinate

today i'm walking into the grocery store and i reach down to pick up a "only in here to get a few things" basket when i i hear this cheery baritone voice to the back of me. i turn around and glimpse an older black gentleman waving goodbye to one of the employees of the store. i didn't see much of his face, and really wasn't trying to, as i wanted to get in and out of the store, so i turned quickly after grabbing my basket and headed inside.

later, as i'm driving home, i notice an older man walking up the steep hill in front of me. he was rocking a gray-haired afro, a dark blue windbreaker, faded jeans and what looked like brand new, ice white sneakers. he had somewhat of a limp to his step and was moving with care, a couple of plastic grocery bags held in his right hand.

now i know it's not safe for a woman to stop and offer a ride to a stranger, especially a male stranger, but this guy was struggling and i couldn't let a brotha go out like that, so i pulled up beside him and rolled down my window.

"you need a ride sir?"

he turned to me and his face broke into the kind of smile that made me think the sun was envious of its shine. i mean, that had to be one of the most genuine and beautiful smiles i've ever seen on a human being. his teeth were gleaming white and straight, and he had a dimple in his right cheek. this old dude was handsome.


he walks to the door, opens it, and gets in. i pull off and he starts talking.

"you live around here or are you just visiting?" he asks.

"i live right around the corner, sir." my parents always taught me to be respectful of my elders. meanwhile, he was having none of that...

"oh, don't call me that!" he exclaimed, his voice colored with chagrin. "my name's john. call me john."

"okay sir...i mean, john."

as i continue driving, i cast furtive glances his way, wondering if i made a mistake by picking this guy up. i mean, he looked harmless enough, but so did ted bundy. what serial killer do you know wears a t-shirt with his favorite occupation emblazoned on it in red letters? i immediately started berating myself for underestimating a brotha just cuz he's older and reminded me of one of my uncles.

meanwhile, john gathers his bags in his lap, all the while giving me his life story.

"i've been retired for two years now...thirty-four years working for i'm just cooling my heels and taking it by myself with no woman and no kids..."

he's staring at me with "the look" on his face. you know the look i'm talking about. the "you look good enough to eat...with your legs on my shoulders while i do it" look.

and that's when i realized that mack daddies never retire.

from there, i was mentally scrambling, trying to figure out what i could say to him to let him down while preserving his pride.

"wow!" i exclaimed uncomfortably, "no woman, huh?"



"make a right up here at the light, then a left at the first street on your left."


"i'm sixty-four years old and i've never been married." he restated.

i just look ahead, making sure i followed his directions.

"so..." he starts, "do you have a man to keep you warm at night?"

mack mode in effect, i think to myself. i glance at him quickly.

"yes...i've got a man."

"is he good to you?"

why is that always the next question? are brothas always looking for sistas to rescue from bad relationships? i mean really, what is he gonna do if i am in a bad relationship? go and kick the brotha's ass? is he gonna "make it all better?"

"yeah, he's good to me."

his face fell in disappointment.

"see where that white car is?" his finger pointed past the dashboard. "my house is right there."

i continue driving towards the car, wondering to myself why a sixty-four year old man actually thought he stood a chance of catching the coochie of a woman half his age. i mean really...if i were the sixty-four year old woman catching a ride home with a man half my age, would i stand a chance? funny how that double standard works.

"where are the single women around here?" he asked me, frustration threaded through his questioning gaze.

now i could have said "they're at the clubs" but does he really need to be at the clubs? how did he expect me to answer that fucking question anyway??? i just shrugged.

as i pulled up next to the white car, he grabbed for his bags and opened the door. before getting out, he turned towards me and grabbed my hand. he placed a kiss on the back of it and looked up into my eyes. i froze.

"too bad you have a man." he said softly, the baritone of his voice vibrated off of my skin.

then he let my hand go, stepped out of the car, and walked towards his house.

i just sat there. shit, but the lips that had just kissed my hand were warm and firm and for a second there, i felt a sexual shock to the system.

on the drive home, i wondered what a sixty-four year old dick would taste like.

christmas chaos - pt 1.

momz drafted me for decorating duty, which is code for "you betta not have shit to do cuz you'll need the whole weekend to get all this shit done."

i got there around 4 p.m., pulling into the driveway right as she was leaving. she told me she was headed to the grocery store, which is code for "i'm headed to the liqour store, THEN to the grocery store". i watch her leave, go into the house, and am immediately verbally accosted by dad as he spent the next hour complaining to me about his job and the kids he works with.

i play the good daughter bit, although i'm thinking "i don't give a shit about your job or those fucking kids, dad." yeah, i was in one of those moods. all i gotta say is that my friend is in town and she's a bloody bitch.

aiight, so after he hijacked my ear for an hour, i paid him the ransom of a bottle of heineken and he walked off to sit in his favorite chair in front of the television. i pick up my knitting and get at it until my momz gets back from the grocery/liqour store.

when she gets back, we get to decorating. the first order of business was to decide which angel gets placed on top of the christmas tree this year.the angel is a big deal for momz. for years, we had a white angel in blackface placed on top of the tree because we couldn't find a black angel. now, not only do we have black angels, we've got black angels representing different classes.

here is our reigning angel. she has been on top of the tree for at least ten years. judging from the expression on her face, she's tired of the gig and is ready to move on to bigger and better things. i'm sure she's exhausted after having held her baby for at least that long without any assistance from baby daddy angel. see, even in heaven, brothas leaving all the baby chores to the sistas.

she's willing to sit atop our tree, but that doesn't mean she has to be happy about it.

and then there's the recently purchased challenger to old angel's throne. i have dubbed her 'lil kim' cuz she's sporting the hat lined with chinchilla fur and a muff studded with diamonds. it's obvious she's nouveau riche, the hundred dollar bills in her prada bag so crisp she cuts herself whenever she pull a few out to pay for her next shoe purchase.

i'm not sure she'd be down with sitting on top our tree, though. we're only middle class and our tree isn't professionally done. her perfectly processed coif is unlike the hairstyle of every female in the immediate family, as both mom and i rock locs.

we finally decided to keep the pissed off angel. i take pleasure in her continued pain.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

today is 50 year anniversary of montgomery bus boycott

i woke up this morning to the news talking about it. all of the marta buses here are gonna have "thank you rosa" flashing across the marquee. that pissed me off. i won't expound on it again as i've spoken on it here, but let's just say i'd rather they have the message read "thank you to all of the folk who walked miles to work only to have their employers fire them because they were participating in the boycott. thank you to all the folk who suffered on the daily without the protection of the naacp, and STILL found the courage to do so, despite the fact their VERY LIVES were being threatened."

oh..."and thank you rosa parks...although you weren't the first, nor were you the bravest, you still did what you did and you get props for it."

aiight...i'm done.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

a battle lost (why i major in pan-african studies)

it was my first day in the gifted program in high school. i was a black eight-grader attending a predominantly white high school as a part of the minority to majority program (send black kids living in inferior black neighborhoods to schools in superior white neighborhoods).

i was immediately uncomfortable. i wondered if i even belonged there. sure, i had participated in a similar program in elementary school, so it wasn't like i wasn't familiar with the system of it all. however, this was different. in elementary school i was among many other black kids who were deemed "gifted" as a result of test scores that for some reason determined the intelligence level of a child. funny, but despite my test scores, up until then i had never received better than average grades in school. that didn't matter, though. as long as the test scores remained high, i was "gifted". what utter bullshit, but that's a discussion for another day.

anyway, i'm sitting in the class and looking around, noticing real quick-like that i was the only black kid in the room. i slunk down in my chair, trying to make myself invisible to the blond-haired, blue-eyed teacher who from time to time would stare pointedly at me as if to say "what the fuck is this nigger doing in my program?"

i had never seen that look before. or maybe i had never recognized the look before that very moment. she wore her hatred like a technicolor coat, changing from the crimson passion of bitter animosity whenever i dared raise my hand to answer a question to the stinging green glaze of contempt when the answer proved to be correct to an icey azure of indifference when she attempted to ignore me the rest of the time. i sat at my desk and watched the coat evolve from one to color to another, not really sure why it only appeared when she was reminded of my presence in her room. i stiffened my spine and sat up straight in my chair, picking up the guantlet that had been silently tossed in my direction.

she made a point of calling on me to answer question after question during the first fifteen minutes of class, as if she was praying i'd answer wrong so she'd have justification for her belief i shouldn't be there. the topics ranged from science to calculus to the american government and to her disappointment, i answered none incorrectly. my face was all shiny and happy cuz i was so proud of myself.

then somewhere towards the end of the period, the discussion turned to the civil rights movement. was it for my benefit or detriment? if i had learned anything from the first fifty minutes of being in her presence it was that she wasn't to be trusted. at this point, i said little. frankly, despite all of the "education" i'd received up until that point, very little of it concerned the civil rights movement past martin luther king and rosa parks. i'm ashamed to say it now, but i have to tell it, because again, it speaks to just how fucked up the education system was (and still is) regarding the educating of black kids about the textured and multi-hued fabric that is the history of black folk in america and beyond. but i digress...

so i sat there as the white kids around me discussed the court case that forced white schools to enroll black kids like me into their ranks because separate didn't mean equal. they talked about how tired rosa parks must have been to refuse to give up her seat to that white guy and how martin luther king was a good preacher who fought non-violently for the rights of black folk.

and i remained silent through the whole thing, because i was unsure of what i could contribute to the conversation other than what was already being said.

my silence was being duly noted, as ms. hateanigger kept making furtive glances at me, a puzzled look on her face.

then with a dawning comprehension she realized why i wasn't saying anything. she interrupted the discussion right then and there and looked me straight in the eyes, pulling her shoulders back as if getting ready to put up her fists for a fight. she took a deep breath and spoke.

"nikki, dear..."

her condescending tone had turned my name into an insult.

everyone in the class turns to me, as if sensing the importance of this moment. looking back, i wonder if hatred against black folk was easier for them to detect than it had been for me up until then. it was like they were all waiting for the negro kid to speak knowledgeably about the civil rights movement cuz, you know, i was a negro. this would also prove to be my first foray as representative for the entire black race. i could feel the fear rising to settle like a brick in my throat.

"yes ma'am?" i answered.

she paused, as if building up for some kind of orgasm triggered by my next answer.

"what does 'n' double 'a' 'c' 'p' mean?"

i froze. i tried to draw my face into a picture of confidence, but i knew i had failed because fear is a pungent smell and a dog sniffing for it will find it and the nostrils on this bitch were flaring.

i didn't know what it meant.

i mean, i knew what the "n", one of the "a"s, the "c" and the "p" meant. it was the national association of colored people, right? no...that can't be right, cuz that leaves out one of the "a"s....

was this some kind of trick question??? oh boy...

i glanced around, a plea for help etched on my face. just remembering how i felt then makes me cringe right now out of both embarrassment and anger. embarrassment because i was actually looking for a white kid to save me from a moment when my inherent "negro-ness" should have prevented the moment from occurring in the first place. anger because i was looking for help from some of the same kids who had been smirking in disdain at me up until then.

i started to sweat a little.

every black person knows what naacp means, right? that question kept repeating itself in my mind as i started wringing my hands and biting the inside of my mouth.

yeah...every black person except me.

the black kid who had tested so high on her iowa tests, she had placed in the top 1% of her age group in the nation.

the black kid who had been in the gifted program in her elementary school since third grade.

the black kid who had been skipped a grade based solely on her test scores.

the black kid who, despite the high test scores that labeled her highly intelligent, didn't know shit about the history of black people.

the black kid who at that very moment was actually calculating the probability of a meteor falling from the sky to wipe out if not the planet, then at the very least the teacher now standing before her with the look of malicious triumph lighting her eyes like shattered glass reflecting flame from a soul already dwelling in hell with the devil.

mrs. hateanigger stood there, feet spread, hands braced on her hips, a grin on her face as she waited for my answer.

" stands for the national association of all colored people."

the kids around me started snickering, but the sound wasn't loud enough to drown out the sound of my heart as it thundered beneath my breasts.

mrs. hateanigger remained standing, her face red as she tried to hold onto the sound of her own snickering, before the force proved too strong and she quickly let out a guffaw before going silent.

"no, dear." she faked looking aghast. "it stands for the national association for the advancement of colored people."

she emphasized "for the advancement" as if to say "evidently not very far"...

thinking back on that moment, i'd have to agree with her, though the very action makes me want to peel back my skin with a really sharp cheese grater.

after i sat down, i could feel the eyes of everybody in the class still upon me, but i refused to look up from the desktop. i was extremely embarrassed and hurt and i felt let down, although i wasn't sure who or what had let me down.

later that day, as i sat on the school bus taking me from superior school to the inferior area known as my neighborhood, i thought long and hard about what labels like "highly intelligent" and "gifted" really meant.

and how absolutely worthless they are without "knowledge of self".