Wednesday, September 26, 2007

repost - the double standard of entering and exiting

[while i gather my thoughts for my next confessional, i figured i'd post an oldie. i'm sure most of you have read it, but there may be a new reader or two who hasn't. anyway, this is also something to remind me of the candor i wanna re-capture when i write, as i've noticed how effective i've been at censuring myself lately. here's hoping i knock myself out of such foolish behavior. anyway, that's my problem, not yours...]

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, September 24, 2007

just curious...

how come i have to go to high-income white neighborhoods in order to get some decent produce? what, poor and/or black folk don't eat vegetables? what's worse is that the prices are the same. i pay ten dollars for ten pounds of pears in the high-income area just like in the hood, only i don't have to sift through 100 pears for ten minutes to find four pears worth eating.

damn, can a sista get a friggin apple that doesn't look like it was given 30 lashes for talkin sass to de massa? is it too much to ask for a cucumber that's not soft enough to fart when squeezed? can someone hook a sista up with lettuce that ain't so brown it looks like it's got more melanin in it than i've got?

how come the only time racism generates marches is when it occurs in small southern towns? where is al sha.rpton when i need someone to march in protest of the fact that i'm the token negro working at a major university in a metropolitan city who's gonna hit the glass ceiling in about a year? where da hell is jesse when i need someone to rhyme about the unfair treatment i get at the gig on the daily?

"i'm not here to cause a commotion
i'm here cuz nikki deserves a promotion
stop 'humpin around' and 'don't be cruel'

or i'll bring mister 't' here to pity da fool!"

where in da hell are these guys during my job interviews when the interviewer is looking at my neatly coifed locs, dreading the fact i sought out a job at his company while glancing at any cracks in my resume in search of the perfect excuse to justify not considering me for the position? shit, i'm tired of that whole "redneck in the pick up truck is the racist" bullshit. turn that radar on and you'll find more than a few among the college-educated, northern born and residing, never slept with a relative, hil.ary cli.nton supporting, 'evolved' folk living outside of the south. i'll give it to the ones residing south of tha least you see the noose coming. much better than having the shit hiding behind 'politically-correct' banter...

...or residing in the hearts of the folk who think they're not racist cuz they've never called a black person 'ni.gger' even as they've tossed a resume into the wastebasket cuz the name on it was 'iesha jackson'.

...or existing in the minds of the folk who breathe the sigh of relief cuz they've got a token brohem (probably the lone black teamate from the high school basketball squad) stashed in the closet to whip out on those occasions when simply saying they've got a black friend won't clear them after saying something stupid like "my folk didn't own slaves so i didn't benefit from slavery."

how many times i gotta be that token brohem who gets invited to dinner parties thinking i'm gonna enjoy myself only to find out i'm the showpiece for the 'friend', the 'ask jeeveka' white folk come to for answers to perplexing questions like...

"why aren't more black people upset about michael vick killing dogs?" [dude, young black men are being killed on the daily over bullshit and i'm supposed to get weepy over some dogs? when the death of a dog begins to mean the end of the black community, get back at me and THAT'S when i'll be more upset about it.] or

"how do black people feel about barak obama" [he's a black dude running for president. shit, i fear for his life!] or

"why do black women seem so upset about stuff?" [probably cuz folk keep asking stupid questions like this one]

why is it the only time i've ever seen a white man defer to a black man in terms of his knowledge of something is when i saw it on 'remember the titans'? how come i never saw any of the white doctors on 'er' defer to pratt about anything that didn't involve gang violence and black patients?

how come in the midst of all that shouting in jena, nobody bothered to come up with the funds to get the kid out of jail on bail?

why is it david bowie can send ten grand to the jena legal defense fund but masta 'nigga' 'p'lease can't send a red cent when no doubt at least one of those six has either bought his cds or supported his music and they probably don't even know what a david bowie is?

why did i get an email telling me to wear black to support the jena six and nobody bothered to include the address of the defense committee so i could send money instead?

Jena 6 Defense Committee
P. O. Box 2798
Jena, LA 71342

what is a march gonna do for those kids other than generate a bunch of t-shirts and signs and hoarse, pissed off black folk? it damn sure ain't gonna change shit in jena cuz when the marchers bounce, those kids and the racist folk who reside there will still be there.

when did this harmless list of questions turn into a rant?

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

a lesson for the early bird

"Stop pushing me!" whined sperm one (s1), as his body was slammed up against the cervix wall.

"i'm not pushing you! you're getting in my fucking way!" growled sperm two (s2).

"You're really not being fair about this..."

"fair? this ain't no stroll through the park, dude. we're all competing for the chance to hit up an egg. hasn't anyone talked to you about this yet?"

"I'm perfectly aware of the task at hand," s1 responded frostily, "Meanwhile, must you shove me like this? It's not as if the eggs are going anywhere!"

"do you not see all of the other brethren around us? dude...this is a fucking RACE. get in the game!" s2 yelled impatiently, "better yet, just step aside, cuz it's obvious you don't have what it takes to fertilize an egg anyway..."

"insulting me is totally uncalled for," s1 replied indignantly.

"do i really look like i care?"

"you should! i'm pretty sure the creator would NOT appreciate your unsportsmanlike attitude."

"look...i'm trying to be nice about this because you're one of my folk, but're working my last nerve."

"ahem...I'm also pretty sure we do not have nerves..."

"it was a figure of speech!" s2 exclaimed with exasperation, "i swear, you are soooooo not fertilizing that egg. you're a fucking moron."

"your vocabulary is absolutely stellar. i've no doubt if you were to fertilize the egg the ensuing child would be equally as stellar at things such as assault and battery of the english language, the family pets, and an inordinant amount of unsuspecting females," s1 said sarcastically, "Meanwhile, if you bothered to look around you, you'd realize we're both in first place."

s2 angrily turned his attention towards s1.

"the only reason you're still around is cuz you're hanging onto my coattails, punk."

"we don't have..."

"shut UP. SHIT!" s2 exclaimed before focusing his efforts on his task.

they swam frantically up the uterus until they got to the fallopian tube.

"there they are!" s2 exclaimed excitedly, sensing the cluster of eggs ahead of him, "now step aside punk and let a real sperm handle this!"

s2 then deliberately crashed into s1, propelling him into the wall of the tube as he scrambled ahead towards the first egg in his path.

"YOU BASTARD!" s1 screamed in his wake.

"aren't we all!" s2 yelled back, snickering as he raced forward, sure he was about to penetrate that egg at any second.

"you best slow ya roll playa," came the words, evidently from the egg. shocked, s2 came to a screeching halt right as he was about to poke her.

"you TALK?" s2 said, his surprise tripping the words, "nobody told me you eggs could talk!"

"this coming from the sperm who speaks despite the fact he has no mouth," egg replied dryly.

s2 thought about that a moment. how did he talk? he attempted to scratch his head in confusion, then realized he had no hands. he remained silent as his embarrassment grew. thirty seconds later he still hadn't figured out what to say. egg's patience broke.

"let's just say we find a way to communicate to each other and leave it at that, k?" gritted egg, annoyed at s2's obvious lack of intelligence.

s2 gave a sheepish laugh, then bristled. what the fuck was he embarrassed about? he didn't come here to make small talk. he came here to get up in dem guts.

"just so you know, i heard that."

s2 stiffened.

"heard what?" he asked innocently.

"'get up in dem guts?'" she quoted before adding disdainfully, "you can't be serious."

"you read minds too?!?"

"technically, you don't have a mind."

"oh shit, not you too..." s2 groaned.

"i'm saying," continued egg matter-of-factly, " you can't expect to just run up into a sista without some form of courting."

s2 was speechless. what the fuck? did this chick...

"not chick," egg interrupted his thought, "EGG, dude. EGG."

does this EGG really expect me to woo her?

"yes," she replied to his thought, "i expect you to woo me."

s2 was incredulous.

"what kind of wooing could you possibly expect from a sperm?!?" s2 asked exasperately, "ain't no candy or flowers or jewelry anywhere up in here!"

there was a thoughtful pause before egg finally responded.

"how about some poetry?"

s2 felt as though he was living someone else's nightmare. surely i'm not here in front of an egg being thwarted from my life's mission because the chi..uh, EGG wants me to quote her some poetry? really, this is too much.

he glanced around her, noticing the other eggs sitting there ready for the poking.

man, fuck THIS. i can get with one of the other...

"none of us eggs is gonna give it up without at least a little bit of poetry, dude." egg said in response to his unspoken intent. the other eggs moved in agreement.

"you've GOT to be JOKING."

"no, i'm not," egg said stubbornly, "so if you want to get up in THESE guts you best represent."

s2 knew when he was beat. he sighed heavily as he glanced dejectedly at the other eggs. SHIT.

"whatever, dude. just hop to it," said egg, "and be quick about it cuz your brethren will be here any second."

s2 suddenly sensed the other sperm speeding through the uterus. desperately, he tried to come up with something, ANYTHING that would pass as a poem.

"roses are red," he sputtered frantically.

"oh HELL nah," egg said.

"GOTDAMNIT!," s2 bellowed angrily.

"try again," egg responded, unmoved by his frustration.

s2 began to quiver nervously. think! THINK!


"there once was a man from..."

"for real?" egg interrupted again, disbelief lacing her words, "that's all you got?!?"


s2 could sense the other sperm entering the mouth of the fallopian tube. he took a deep breath...

"say baby...can i be your slave?"

"is your name darius?" asked egg derisively, "cuz if it ain't, that shit right there ain't original."

that was IT. s2 had had ENOUGH.

"look here chick, egg, or whatever the fuck you call yourself! i really don't need your permission to do what i gotta do, so either you let me have at it or i'm gonna just take it and ask questions late..."

"OUCH!" exclaimed egg in surprise, "THAT HURTS!"

that's when s2 noticed a tail slithering into egg from behind. s1 had snuck in the back door when nobody was paying attention.

"thank you ever so much for the diversion," came muffled words from inside the egg.


s2 heard s1's snicker as the transformation began. before the process was complete, s1's final words echoed mockingly...

"stellar vocabulary as always. unfortunately, you should have known when to speak and when to shut up, because the wordy sperm only gets 'shit' in return, idiot."

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

blogger's den, week 1

week one of fantasy football in blogger's den made for many close match ups, a few blow-outs, and one ralley from behind in the fading minutes.

cleveland steamers (king or 'ddot') was thoroughly trounced by yours truly. he talked much smack all week long which ultimately prompted me to shoot him a quick email in the wake of my aformentioned victory:

i am sorry for your loss...

i knew your pride pretty well. we used to work together on stuff. although i knew it'd been suffering from morbid obesity for a while and death was immiment, i had no idea it's existence would be taken away from us so violently, nor could i have imagined it would be at the hands of an entire squad of fantasy league football players. i remember advising it to recognize the dangers of extending itself too far but you know how reckless your pride could be. despite it's moments of bloated behavior and impulsive nature, i appreciated your pride for what it was and am sad it is no more.

it will truly be missed.

my sincerest condolences


sweet, sweet revenge...

el deguello was just as impressive in his first victory, aided in part by peyton manning's performance on thursday vs. the saints. truthz tried to rally at the end but couldn't overcome the fact she picked adam vineteri in the first round of the draft (yeah girl, i'm gonna be harping on that move for the rest of the season).

atl hitmen (my buddy herb) pulled out a win against the boo boo roughriders (my cousin lamount). lamount (known to you long-time readers as 'little man'), needs to work on his trash-talking skill, paying particular attention to his spelling and grammar. i don't know what they're teaching him in school but the boy is 14 and should know how to spell 'sorry'.

black socrates and funkytown phoenix were going back and forth with the lead all weekend and went down to the wire as both guys had a few guys in both games last night. in the end though, funkytown's cornerback adrian wilson proved to be the difference maker as his eight point performance put him over the top for good.

morris brown (dex) ended up losing to a guy who didn't even bother to set up his defense (the bullies) and frankly, i'm appalled.. and perhaps even a bit ashamed.

lock and load made a flurry of last second pick ups and drops prior to his showdown with morgan state bears . unfortunately, his efforts proved futile as the bears, despite piss poor play from starting quarterback phil rivers (-.25 points), found a way to squeak out the victory. that has to burn just a little bit...

and finally, in what involved the most trash-talking between opponents, bad attitude eeked out a victory against my darkhorse pick for league champion, aquababie. i gotta give my girl aqua props cuz this is her first year and she's already picking up players like a pro.

standings after the first week. please note i'm in first place (as is the natural order of things).