if i could have it...

if you could have the christmas of your dreams with all the gifts you ever wanted, what would they be? none of that 'world peace' and 'an end to world hunger and homelessness' stuff here. this is strictly for you and i'm talking about the concrete and material stuff.

me?



1. lexus sc 430 hardtop convertible. man, i've never really coveted a car until i checked this one. yeah, i know it's not set up for family, but you know what? i ain't trying to have folk ride in here with me. this is strictly for myself. i'd drive it to feel the wind stirring the dandruff on my scalp, teasing my locs into a freeflowing cape behind me. shoo...i'd probably have the top down in the dead of winter too...

2. a trip to paris, france. scarlettrae got me on this one with her tales about the history of black artists and muscians there. i wanna see it, wanna see the history of my folk in a place where there isn't the history of oppression as there is here in the u.s. not to say things were perfect there, but i know many of them were able to do things there creatively they'd never have been able to do here.

3. man, i've been damn near sliding in my panties over this one. i've never had a bla.ckberry in my life and i'm this close to getting one. as soon as i pay off my credit cards (debt-free by february 2007 except for the car note of course), i'm getting this damn phone. my attention deficit disorder demands i do so. the idea of having everything in one place is enough to make me wanna find the people who made this thing and hug them all (and if one of them happens to be a cute nerd type wearing wire-rim glasses and carrying a big stick, i'd be willing to at least consider giving up a little coochie. dang...i sound a bit easy...oh well...



4. i have always wanted a house on the beach with floor to ceiling glass windows facing the ocean. funny, cuz i'm actually afraid of large bodies of water, but i can check it from my house.














i'd be able to watch the sun rise or set over the ocean's horizon. i'd hear the waves crashing on the shore below my windows. this probably ain't the safe route considering the hurricanes, but i'd make sure i had a nice crashing spot somewhere inland too. speaking of which...

5. a condo in manhattan where i get a view like this would be perfect. straight up, if i had the loot this would probably be the first place i'd head. i've always wanted to live in a highrise with spectacular views and plenty of windows!

6. i've never ever been on a cruise, and wasn't really pressed about it until i checked this baby out on the dis.covery channel. queen mary 2...whaaaat! you can actually take a cruise around the world on this thing! think i wouldn't? if i had the cash and the time i'd be all up ON this. here's the intinerary...some of the stops include brazil, hawaii, egypt, and italy...places i've always wanted to go! i'm telling you...THIS one is gonna happen within the next ten years.

7. i'd be hiking the grand canyon. my parents went there a couple of years back and they came back with the most spectacular photos and a look of pure awe on their faces. i don't think i've ever seen that look on their faces before, so when they told me about just how overwhelmed they were by the majestic views and sheer massiveness of the grand canyon, i knew i had to go there myself. i'm not gonna just see it from a viewpoint though. i wanna experience it, get red dust on my skin and smell the trees drying underneath a burning sun. i wanna be that small grain of sand sliding down the middle of the earth's asscrack. speaking of the earth's body parts...

8. i'd make a trek to the earth's womb, better known as africa. a safari woule be the bomb. i'd check out nature's beauty and its beasts (from a safe distance of course...i ain't going out like those crazy folk you see on that show 'i should be a dead mofo cuz i was stupid enough to get close to a lion and think that sucka wasn't gonna try to bite my head off'). i'd be reminded of just where i really am in the food chain according to the divine design, not man. i'd walk the same lands my ancestors walked and hear whispers of their existence in my ears while their spirits soaked my soul. no doubt i'd leave that womb reborn...

man...that's all i can think of at the moment, but i'm sure later i'll be like "DAMN! I SHOULD HAVE ADDED [insert obvious shit here]!"

in the meanwhile, what would YOU want? again, this is purely for you, not for anybody else, and it doesn't involve any kind of abstract longings!

thankful thursday

i'm sitting here looking out of my office window into a sky grey with turbulent thoughts of rain. i haven't yet turned on the lights in here, so the brightest thing going is my monitor.

it's downright gloomy up in this piece. i thank god for the breathe given to me so that i can be here to experience it.

i am thankful for...

...my brother aswad who yet again showed me why he is one of the people i admire most when he told me he was glad that girl wasn't dead cuz it meant her baby girl would have her momma around.

...my mom who STILL don't know how to keep a secret, but in the end said what needed to be said.

...hassan and his gratitude post from last week. i've been trying to find the right words to express just how moved i was by your words and damnit if i still can't come up with them. maybe they haven't been invented yet. special shout outs go to divinelavender and soul and mizjj for your personal words of encouragement and empowerment as well as the rest of my favorite bloggers who voiced your support during that time.

...the week of institutional vacation i get as a result of working at a school. it almost makes up for the pay...almost. :)

...his finger caressing the shell of my ear, for his calm sea against the storm of my fears, for the blessing of him being here

...my girl candice who no matter what, will call me and check in on me, even though i have made a point of being a trife friend who don't stop by or call a negro as much as i should

...aquababie's entry about her dad. this morning while reading it i was reminded of how beautiful love can be between father and daughter and that black men DO step up to handle the biz of raising their kids. her father can't help but be proud of the woman she has become and she reflects all that was good about her dad.

...both ladylee and chele and their beautifully rendered stories as well as their courage in the expressing of their own internal battles (even the battles lost). i'm telling you right here right now that i look to you both and see pieces of what i want to be. your blogs are where i run to when i want to see with my own eyes that women are indeed strong, indeed capable of making a way for ourselves and our loved ones, indeed talented enough and determined enough to pursue our dreams. you show me women can live enriched lives without having to cave into the notions of a society that likes to make us feel as though our existences aren't validated unless we have a man who tells us it's valid. you give emotional support without hesitation and encouragement without reservation. you two are fearless, not because you have no fear, but because you act in spite of your fear. thank you for blessing all of us with your writings and your beautiful spirits.

...honeylibra and her candor and her vulnerability and her just telling the damn thing, even when she knows some folk are gonna be like "oh no you didn't!". oh, and for her euphemisms that always make me smile and immediately add them to my daily vernacular when i read them on her blog. i have already used "sam nation" like twenty times. in a minute i will have cut out all the cussing from my speech (if not from my blog. LOL)

...knowing that no matter what i go through, the results are in preparation for my next battle.

...the insight necessary to recognize sometimes i let that inner voice prevent me from doing what i need to do and that sometimes i need to listen to the outer voices instead.



...the gray skies...cuz the sun is at it's brightest when it's breaking through them...
___________________

i know a bunch of bloggers are hitting the roads today and tomorrow to head home to see fam. i am praying for your safe journey there and back and for you to enjoy the time you have with those you love.

2006 memorable moments meme (alternate universe version)

what a year what a year...

1. What did you do in 2006 that you'd never done before?

this meme

2. Did you keep your New Years' resolutions?

dub is still alive, so no.

3. Did anyone you know give birth?

no, but terrell owens is a pussy who fucks around so i'm expecting him to announce his pregnancy any day now.

4. Did anyone you know die?

man...it's almost too easy...

5. What countries did you visit?

i was on fantasy island up until a few weeks ago. evidently i wished for a chance to meet some chick online who'd send me fake photos of a video ho and make me think she was dying. mr roarke betta be glad he's already in a wheelchair cuz i'd be shooting him in the kneecaps over that one.

6. What would you like to have in 2007 that you lacked in 2006?

extinction of the idiots around me

7. What dates from 2006 will remain etched upon your memory?

nov. 26. it was the day the sun stopped shining, the birds stopped singing, and the earth stood still as she died. i still read the text message her sister sent and reminisce about the good old days when she was alive and we used to hang out in the walmart parking lot late at night cracking on the sad and desperate chicks who put fake photos of themselves online and lie about themselves to strangers because of their low self-esteem.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

refraining from killing my boss.

9. What was your biggest failure?

not killing my boss.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

yeah, but i'm not talking to him anymore so i'm cured.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

the truth

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?

my clit, for being patient in the face of my unwanted celibacy

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?

my dildo stroker ace. it wants to start dating other people.

14. Where did most of your money go?

batteries. da greedy bastid...

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

when the falcons won the superbowl...hol up...

16. What song/album will always remind you of 2006?

liar - by the rollins band

17. What do you wish you'd done more of?

as if the answer isn't self-evident...

18. What do you wish you'd done less of?

lamenting about not getting any

19. Did you fall in love in 2006?

yes. i fell in love with a guy who i thought was dying of a terminal illness. turns out he was keyser soce.

20. How many one night stands in this last year?

i don't fuck while standing up, thank you very much...

21. What was your favourite TV program?

network news. best fiction EVAR.

22. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?

i don't hate, i pity.

23. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

a really toe-curling orgasm that wasn't self-inflicted.

24. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2006.

if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it won't be giving birth to kittens

25. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year?

nas - "life's a bitch and then you die..." unless you fake dying, in which case you're just a bitch with no life

time will reveal pt. 3

part one
part two

watching damon walk towards us was like watching a raindrop cascade down the face of a window, a drop from heaven gliding down a path that led him straight to me. i adjusted my glasses on my nose so i could get a better look at him, the blood thundering through my veins as i stood there wondering what he was thinking. by the time he reached us, i had covertly adjusted my skirt at least ten times and was fighting the urge to scratch around the band-aid on my knee.

"wassup," aswad said as he leaned into damon and they did their secret handshake. damon was looking at me as he answered. his eyes widened fractionally.

"wassup."

my lips tilted slightly as i tried to play it nonchalant despite the fact my heart was racing furiously.

"hi," i said, noting the bemused look on his face as he continued staring at me. was he surprised? happy? disappointed? what did that slightly dazed look on his face mean? i didn't stay around to figure it out, straightening my shoulders and adjusting my backpack on my shoulder as i walked past him.

"see you guys later."

i could feel his eyes on me as i made my way to a group of girls near the school entrance. renee, my old nemesis who had long since become one of my best friends, was standing in the circle of bodies waiting for me to get to them. all of the girls turned their heads in my direction and a few of the mouths dropped in shock. by the time i made it to them, i was fighting the desire to run my hand across my nose to see if i had a booger hanging from it.

"uh," renee started as she ran her eyes from the top of my head to my knees, her gaze hovering pointedly at my skirt, "hey, nikki."

the circle was silent. four pairs of eyes were looking at me, anticipation crackling from their skin as they awaited what had to be a juicy explanation for my attire.

"hey, y'all."

i lifted an eyebrow haughtily and pretended nothing was different. i wasn't about to volunteer any information. they were gonna have to pull it from me. realizing this, renee spoke again.

"so um, when are you gonna tell us why you're wearing a skirt?"

tina, jackie, and claire's giggles followed on the tail of renee's question. i rolled my eyes and let out a big sigh of aggravation.

"why is everyone so surprised i'm wearing a skirt?" i asked exasperately as i broadened my stance and placed my hands on my hips, "you're acting like you've never seen me in one before!"

the girls just continued staring at me, their eyes growing saucer-like as my growing anger amplified my voice.

"dang girl," tina responded with irritation, "why you getting all mad at us?"

"we're not saying you don't look nice in the skirt," claire added quickly, ever the mediator, "but it's not 'awards day'..."

"and why would you wear a skirt today with that ugly bandaid on your knee? it clashes with everything," interrupted jackie, ever the smart ass, "you should have done us all a favor and worn something to cover that thing up so we wouldn't have to see it."

i looked at jackie, squinted my eyes warningly, and silently counted to ten as i reminded myself for the millionth time not to let her get to me. she'd always found a way to work my last nerve like it was a prostitute and she was its pimp trying to force its old and shriveled form onto a nauseated john for one last ride. more times than not i just wanted to smack her in the mouf and be done with it, but she'd been renee's friend since they were in first grade so wherever renee was, there she was.

after i finished counting, i breathed in deeply, exhaled slowly, then deliberately turned so that my back was to jackie when i spoke to renee.

"i'll tell you later in class," i said to her, feeling the heat from jackie's fuming gaze torching the hair on my head.

ignoring her, i made a slow stroll towards the front doors of the school just as the bell rang. i looked over my shoulder to see if renee was behind me and my eyes locked with a pair of light green irises a few feet a way from me. irises the color of diaphanous envy.

damon!

so intent was i on staring at him i forgot i was still walking. as i cross the threshold i caught the tip of one of my brand new seba.gos on the slightly raised iron strip on the floor and tripped forward, bumping into the person in front of me before landing on my knees. my bookbag swung from my shoulder and hit the floor with a loud bang, books and papers ejecting from the hole on the side. silence punctured the din as everyone in the crowded foyer turned to gawk at me. then it came. undulations of laughter, giggles, and whispers rolled towards me from all sides. they crashing into my confidence like an ocean's open handed smack against the vulnerable cheek of a beach, the sounds gorging through the surface of my composure, leaving behind grooves as their frothy fingers retreated with grains of my spirit caught in their cuticles.

and then the kids were moving forward as if nothing had happened, walking over and around me as though i was nothing more than a crack in the sidewalk they avoided stepping on in order to prevent breaking their mothers' backs.

i wanted to kick 'em all in the kneecaps.

a second later renee and the girls were surrounding me, protecting me as the crush closed in as i sat there on the floor. aswad was down on his knees wrapping his fingers around my glasses as damon bent over and began shoving my school books back into my bookbag through the tear in the side. tina and claire helped me up, renee brushed the dust off of me, and jackie stood there with her arms folded across her chest, shaking her head disapprovingly. i bit my tongue to stop myself from snapping at her.

"girl, you alright?" renee asked with concern as she straightened up to face me.

"yeah, i'm cool."

i gathered the remaining grains of my composure and used them to soak up the embarrassment pooling within my posture. i stiffened my spine and lifted my chin a notch. at the same time aswad was handing me my glasses and damon held my bookbag on the end of his outstretched arm. i grabbed both items and a small smile limped onto my lips.

"thanks, guys."

aswad and damon shrugged and said nothing, then left the group to head to class. we all turned to watch them, my covert gaze of longing stuck to damon's back.

"that damon is really cute," said tina. i turned and looked at her in surprise.

"damon? cute?" i stuffed nonchalance into my voice, "i hadn't noticed."

"girl, you need new glasses then," claudia replied in reproach, "cuz that boy is fione."

renee was listening to the exchange, a pensive look on her face as she continued staring in the direction of the retreating boys.

"i've never seen a boy with eyes like that," she finally said matter-of-factly, "he's definitely a cutie."

i was getting angry again, but i couldn't let them know that.

"is he cute enough to be your boyfriend?" i asked, perhaps more interested in her answer than i cared to admit.

"HECK naw!" jackie interjected with disgust, "he might be cute, but he's still in the fifth grade!"

i turned to jackie with my temper barely held in check.

"did i ask you? no, i didn't, so shut up."

renee stepped in between jackie and i, aware of where the exchange was headed.

"don't you two get started." she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards our classroom, "you know mrs. perry be trippin. see y'all later."

tina, claire, and jackie turned and headed to their respective classes located in the opposite direction. my knees felt raw, the bandaged one throbbing more acutely after my fall. i was limping by the time we got to mrs. perry's classroom at the end of the hallway. the peel of the first period bell rang out just as we plopped into our seats next to each other, breathing heavily from the rush to get there. as mrs. perry began attendance, renee leaned over and whispered.

"are you wearing a skirt cuz of ronald?"

i gasped in horror. surely she wasn't talking about...

"ronald jackson?!?" i whispered incredulously, "HECK naw!"

renee snickered.

"well you know he likes you, right?"

i got the beer face...or in the case of a 12 year old girl, it was more like the 'so.ur pat.ch kids' face. either way, my face was crunchy looking after that revelation.

"for real?!"

"nikki indigo!" mrs. perry yelled from her desk at the front of the room. i started as i heard my name being called for roll.

"HERE!" i exclaimed.

she pointed her perturbed look in my direction.

"i know you're not talking in my class are you?"

i straightened my posture quickly, swallowing the lump of her disappointment in my throat.

"yes ma'am," i said softly, "sorry ma'am."

she stared at me a second longer before continuing with the roll call. as soon as her eyes left me i slid down into my seat and kept silent, searching the room for ronald's petite frame. there he was sitting in a seat next to the window. he was looking at me as he winked slowly. i just stared. ronald and i had been good friends for years, spending hundreds of hours playing basketball on the courts behind the school. back when i was in the fifth grade and only taller than him by an inch or so, i'd had a crush on him, but he only saw me as his basketball buddy. then i shot up three inches over the summer before sixth grade and suddenly ronald was too short to ever be my boyfriend. he was still cute and one of the best basketball players in school, but his head barely reached my shoulder. i felt like an amazon around him. he was my friend though, so i didn't want to hurt him. a whisper of a smile touched my lips as i looked at him before turning my attention to my bookbag.

i pulled it onto my desk and stuck my hand into the hole on the side, rummaging around for my english book. i started pulling papers out of the bag, not paying attention to them as i tried to locate the book. my hands finally landed on it and i yanked it out and placed it on the desk. as i started stuffing the papers back into the bookbag, i saw a torn piece of paper flutter to the floor. i reached down and grabbed it, pinching it between my fingers as i read it.

"you look beautiful"

it wasn't signed, but the words were neatly written, just like those from the recent letter now etched deeply into the walls of my mind..

damon!

i glanced around the room feverishly, wondering how the piece of paper got into my bookbag. then i remembered him putting my books in my bag after i fell. i started grinning stupidly, turning to renee as i did so. she raised both brows and mouthed "i told you!". i shook my head at her, hurriedly shoving the piece of paper back into the bag.

"pull out your homework assignments from last night," mrs. perry said as she stood up and came around to the front of her desk, "we'll go over it first, then move on to the next chapter in today's lesson..."

when class let out an hour later and renee and i were walking in the hallway towards our next class, i was still wearing the remnants of the stupid grin on my face.

"so you ARE wearing that skirt for ronald!" said renee excitedly, "I KNEW IT!"

"NO WAY!" i exclaimed, "he's too short for me and you know it!"

renee pinched her lips and looked at me skeptically.

"i saw him wink at you in class," she had stopped and was crossing her arms over her chest, "AND i saw you smile back at him."

"smile back at who?" claudia asked as she stepped up to stand next to us, a questioning look in her eyes as her glance ping-ponged between renee and i, "who did nikki smile at? is that why she's dressed up today?!?"

renee looked at me with the gossip grin sticking to her face like maple syrup and i knew then nothing i said would help the situation.

"well first, ronald winked at her," renee dished out, "then she smiled back, then she looked at me with the cheezy smile on her face and then she was smiling for the rest of class!"

i rolled my eyes and prayed for patience.

tina and jackie walked up to us just as renee's tale ended. tina saw the gossip grin still sticking to renee's mouth and leaned in quickly.

"what'd i miss?!?"

i scowled at her but said nothing. i couldn't tell them the real reason anyway. if i admitted i was wearing the skirt because of damon, smiling because of damon's note, there was no telling what social repercussions i'd suffer. so instead i turned to renee and waited for her to speak.

"WELL..." she started as she gathered the girls in close, "FIRST ronald smiled at nikki and then..."

i would spend the rest of the day fending off inquiries about me and ronald and the skirt i was wearing and vehemently denying any connection between the three. meanwhile by the time school had let out, the story was that ronald had dedicated the game ball from his league game to me and that i wore the skirt cuz i was letting him know i was ready to be his girlfriend and subsequently we were supposed to meet behind the school for our first kiss.

needless to say i was pissed by the time i found the girls outside after school. i grew even more angry when i realized i hadn't bothered to bring a change of clothes so i could shoot hoops with my boys.

"this SUCKS!" i wailed, "first the ronald stuff and now THIS."

renee was unsympathetic.

"stop acting like you don't like him," she said, "the whole school knows you two are together."

i turned and glared at her.

"this is YOUR fault! if you hadn't spread that lie in the first place i wouldn't be going through this right now!"

i was yelling at this point.

"i didn't lie!" said renee indignantly. she started counting off the points of her air-tight argument, "one. ronald DID wink at you."

i sighed and nodded. tina and claire giggled. jackied 'hmpffed'.

"two. you DID smile back at him."

i gritted my teeth and again nodded.

"three. you were grinning all during class."

now there i wavered. i mean, how could she prove that? renee however, didn't give me time to answer.

"i saw you girl, you can't deny it."

i closed my eyes, clinched my fists, gritted my teeth...and nodded begrudgely.

she went in for the kill.

"so it's obvious you like him and THAT'S why you wore the skirt, right?"

i winced, swallowing her flawed logic until it settled in my stomach like an ulcer. i opened my eyes and saw ronald and some of his boys had joined the group. i wasn't sure how much of the conversation he'd heard, but i saw joy in his eyes and i didn't have the courage to snuff it out. i shuffled my feet a minute as i contemplated what i should say.

"yes," i finally whispered into the hushed silence.

and that's when i noticed a pair of light green eyes looking at me. eyes the color of diaphanous envy now darkened evergreen with hurt.

thankful thursday

look, before you click on the 'x' let me explain. this week it's especially important for me to give thanks and that means putting off the story for yet another day. surely you understand right? what? you don't? damn...it's like THAT now? after all i've done for you?

*sigh*
_________________

thank you first to god for the blessing of every moment. i might not always appreciate what i'm going through at that time, but at least i'm alive to experience it.

thank you to the bloggers who showed me support last week during 'the incident' and continue to show me support in its aftermath. regardless of how things played out, there is enough care around blogland for people to sincerely watch out for each other. i never doubted your intelligence and your ability to discern the truth from the nontruth.

thanks to jonterri, who has shared her insight which has allowed me to really let some stuff go and grow. she is courageous enough to extend a hand of friendship my way. the past is the past. anyone trying to drum it up? that's on them.

thanks for the power of forgiveness. trish emailed me yesterday and apologized. i accepted it. now before some of you get outraged, think about it. to not forgive is to keep holding onto whatever emotion associated with that person, thus giving that person power of you. i forgive her because
1. i'm not above making my own mistakes
2. i'm not the judge or jury here
3. to forgive is to release it
4. there's no way for me to know her mind and what motivated her and others to participate in the situation.

in other words, i only had part of the tale and i guessed at much of it. bottom line is the only folk who know the full unadulterated truth are the people involved. now this doesn't mean i've forgotten her actions or the negative responses and the attempt to discredit me and i will not be looking to associate with her or anyone else intimately involved in that situation. however, i thought it was important i let you know she at least apologized, and that has to mean something.

thank you for the sun that has been shining steady all week. it's hard to be down when i've got the sun beaming its warmth and light through my windows.

thanks for the conversation i had with granny last night. i think she has finally accepted the inevitability of her situation. she actually sounded strong for the first time in months, but i know it's cuz she was so weak during the chemo and radiation treatments. now that the treatments are over, i hope she's able to get some quality out of remaining months or years or however long she's here. i will force myself past the fear to embrace her and let her know i'm around and i love her.

thanks for the strength to sever ties with people who aren't trustworthy. you know, even good people sometimes have too much time on their hands and find themselves behaving in ways that betrays folk around them. i've been there, done that, and learned from it. trust has to be earned on both sides and i'm sure my actions made me not worth trusting during that time, but i am reminded yet again that if you can't say it in the light, don't whisper it in the dark.

thank you for the open heart that has allowed me to accept people into my life and the mindset to find a lesson in all situations. no matter what, life is for living and that means taking the seeds from every situation to grow a fruitful future. i can't do that if i turn away from people because of the baggage of distrust given to me by a situation or i don't see the good in a situation because it's a struggle.

thank you to my readers who've been here through everything. i draw strength and happiness from you. at times it is the light of your wisdom that guides me when i'm too blind to see it for myself. i'm sooo grateful for all of you.
____________

aiight, now tell me this post wasn't necessary! you can't possibly still be mad at me for not posting the story. what? YOU ARE? damn...IS THERE NO PLEASING YOU?!?

*sigh*

ethnic advertising

i'll get back to the story tomorrow. i wanted to talk about an experience i had last night.

so i'm standing in the parking lot of the place where i gotta get my emissions done. i look up and see a sign that says "acapulco muffler and auto mechanics". i wouldn't have thought another thing of it except for the fact that i live in an area that until recently was heavily populated with latino folk (urban gentrification is fixing that shit up real quick though. i don't care how many mexicans you can get into an apartment, they ain't trying to pay $3000 a month in rent.)

the first thing i thought about when i saw that sign was how advertisers try to market specifically to various ethnic groups. on the one hand, it's insulting. i mean, do i really have to see a bunch of obese black women dressed up in choir robes rolling into kfc to purchase a bucket of chicken while an organ pounds out gospel music and some chick sounding like aretha franklin belts out "we do chicken right!" in order for me to find greasy original recipe meat appealing?

i've seen black women advertising cleaning products, too. modern day mammies with hands on their wide hips and that "i'm a black woman so you know i know 'bout my cleaning products cuz my momma was a maid in da big house back in da day" look in her eyes. am i supposed to be glad cuz i see someone who looks like me doing that shit?

but then, isn't that how we do it in our neighborhoods? i've had my hands on my hips more times than i can count and i've started many a sentence with "gurllll..." and have never felt as though i'm being ignant when i do so. shit, that's part of our culture and nothing to be ashamed of. and yeah, many of us black women ARE overweight and many of us ARE in the church choir and many of us DO eat fried chicken, although to be fair we tend to fry our own chicken instead of paying money for someone else to do that shit for us.

and yet i can't help but feel like there's some joke taking place in front of me at my folk's expense and we ain't in on that shit. i bet you'll never see a bunch of black women in choir robes wearing shiny lips from chicken grease while promoting merr.ill-ly.nch financial services.

instead we get the sista advertising the prepaid phone services. the one wearing the wig, stirrup pants and a sweater stretched across her girth. the one who laughs alot and tells you how affordable and worry-free it is to have a prepaid phone. "you don't have to worry about bill collectors" she says, cuz you have to put money on the phone before you can talk. shit, she might as well just say "look, you poor. this is the only shit you can afford."

or we get the car commercials played only on b.e.t. where a dw.ele-like song is playing, the styled out sista is in the passenger seat and the brotha, nicely put together of course, is driving what is really being advertised as his "biggest college-educated, $150,000 salaried dick on the block" gas guzzling suv. i guess advertisers got us neosoul folk down. we listen to ke.m cuz he's that underground ish that the unenlightened folk are sleeping on, attend spoken word joints for the singular purpose of telling our friends the next day we did so cuz it makes us look 'deep', and drive big shiny cars cuz if we rolled up to the club in a dod.ge neon the people standing in line wil snicker to their friends before warning everybody to avoid dropping digits on the person 'who evidently can't afford to live the lifestyle i'm accustomed to.' this, despite the fact that many of those folk in line living check to check and have credit cards a few dollars away from being maxed out.

i mean that IS what some of us is about. meanwhile, are there so many of us who see cars as the status symbol because the commercials tell us so or are the commercials merely reflecting the values of a capitalistic society?

what i wanna see is where this brotha in the commercial is parking his ride when he goes home. is it in the garage of a house he owns or an apartment complex where he gotta park that shit as close to his living room window as possible cuz he scared his shit will get stolen? how come i only see those commercials on other networks if they're showing ethnic specific shows like the naacp image awards or soul train music awards? shit, white folk know we drive so why act like it's a secret?

as i stood there looking at that sign, i wondered if the company got more latino customers because of the 'acapulco' name. i thought about my own tendencies. i'd go to a chinese restaurant with either 'golden' or 'buddha' in it's name before i'd go to one with 'cafeteria' in the name. i'd go to a hole in the wall soulfood place before i'd go to one downtown with valet parking. when i saw that dude from fra.sier advertising financial services, i actually thought for a minute that he must know what he's talking about because he's an old white dude.

so in the end, i'm a product of that which i fume against. evidently i believe soul food done lost its soul if it ain't presented in a styrofoam container, white dudes who used to play sarcastic old fathers on sitcoms are gifted in choosing stock, a chinese restaurant ain't credible without a golden statue of a chubby dude next to the door, and a black man driving a new model suv is rich and has to roll his penis up before tucking it into his pants cuz it's soooo big.

but i don't eat kfc, so there's still hope.

time will reveal pt. 2

click here for part one

my heart was pounding so hard it left craters in the wall of my chest...

"what can i do..."

i felt like that time when i woke up christmas morning to find a brand new electric blue ten-speed bike standing at the foot of my bed...

"to make you feel secure?"

or that time i had a dollar in my pocket and knew as i heard the strains of the mr. softee song wafting to my ears from a block over that i'd be able to buy not one but TWO chocolate eclairs AND a blow pop...

"remove all your doubts..."

or like that time, in band camp when uh...never mind...

"so that you know for sure that you're the apple my eye girl..."

it was the...

"fulfillment of my dreams..."

and i was both giddy and terrified.

i heard damon's voice singing to me in el debarge's tenor, each word dipped in syrup as my ears licked them clean, the meaning behind the words coating my heart like powdered sugar.

he liked me!

one of the cutest boys in school liked ME.

one of the smartest boys in school liked ME.

one of the fifth-grade boys liked ME.

wait...that last one was a downer...

i mean, he was still in the fifth grade, two grades lower than mine. no matter how wonderful he was, there was no changing that sordid fact.

"what are you looking like THAT for?!?"

i turned around so quickly i'm sure my head would have flown off and slammed against the wall had it not been attached to my neck. the forgotten pain in my knee and ankle returned full force as i was yanked out of my daydreaming back into reality. 'swad stood there looking at me as though i'd just farted.

and damon was standing right there next to him.

"i know just how you feel, but this time love's for real..."

"uh, what?" i asked dazedly as i just stopped my mouth from falling agape.

"in time it will reveal...the special love that's deep inside of us will all reveal in time..."

aswad looked disgusted as he jabbed damon in the ribs and responded.

"you look like you do when you're talking about marcus allen."

"shut UP!" i yelled, my body felt like it'd been juliened by embarrassment and my pride was now dripping from the openings left after my body had been cleaved. i stiffened my spine as though i could manually close every wound and hold some of it in.

damon just stood there silently with his baseball mit in his hand, staring at me intently as el debarge continued singing his heart on his behalf...

"more precious than silver, more precious than diamond rings or anything that i can give you..."

"i just like this song, is all," i answered as haughtily as i could muster. by this time 'swad had started laughing at my discomfiture and i knew i had to get both of them out of there with a quickness. i turned back towards the stereo and turned off the tape. while i stood there facing the tape deck i gathered all the couth and calm a seventh grader could find in a meadow blooming full with her insecurities.

"look who's talking," i heard damon's voice say teasingly, "the same guy who trips over himself every time he's around..."

"HOL' UP...," aswad interrupted frantically, "i think i hear marc outside!"

i turned just as aswad grabbed damon's sleeve and started pulling him into the hallway. damon was still looking at me, a smile skittering shyly across his lips.

"bye."

his smile nudged mine awake.

"bye."

the bouquet of my pride was held tightly within my fingers, their petals only slightly wilted from the weight of embarrassment damon assisted in lifting from them. i exhaled dreamily. he was quickly becoming my knight in shining armor.

i played that tape over and over again until i had the lyrics memorized, even eating my dinner in my room so i could listen to the tape and re-read the letter until each word was permanently engraved upon my brain. i went to sleep with the paper folded and tucked beneath my pillow.

the next morning i woke up extra early, my body shivering with restlessness and anticipation of the new day. i ripped the blanket from over me and jumped out of bed, tripping over the discarded clothes huddled on the floor as i raced towards my closet. thrusting the door open, i stared woebegonely at the contents hanging limply from the hangers. up until then i hadn't put much thought into what i was going to wear to school and in fact had seen very little of the inside of my closet, preferring to don what was easily accessible on the carpet next to my bed. nervously i pulled at each garment, glancing over each of them with a growing sense of alarm. all i had hanging in there were either sunday best dresses or clothes i'd outgrown the year before. with my mind at panic pitch i started shoving the pieces aside haphazardly and willed myself to calm down. a deep breath of relief escaped me as my fingers finally clutched a new beige skirt tucked in the back. mom must have snuck it there, knowing her daughter would probably have made it conveniently disappear had she spotted it sooner. i said a prayer of thanks for my mom's sneakiness.

i tossed the skirt towards my bed as i swiveled and ran to my dresser, yanking out the drawers on a frenetic quest to find a top to go with it. throwing clothes everywhere, i stilled when my eyes finally landed on a beautiful lavender cashmere sweater my mom had bought for me before school started. i ran my fingers over it reverently before pulling it out and walking over to my bed to place it on top of the covers. it had short puffy sleeves and tiny ruffles on the v-neck. totally girly.

totally not me.

at least, not me before that day, because i was determined to show damon i could be a girl too.

i was standing there daydreaming about how perfect the day was going to be when my mom walked into my room.

"you're already up?" surprise was sewn into her voice. i turned my head towards her.

"yup," i answered on a sigh. mom raised an eyebrow as she looked at me, a question in her eyes. she stepped over to my bed and glanced down to the outfit i had sprawled across the covers. i heard her gasp.

"you're wearing a skirt?," she asked as she looked at me with shock in her eyes, her mouth slightly agape as she continued, "to school?!?"

i huffed to cover up the hurt i felt at her reaction.

"i wear skirts to school sometimes, mom," i replied.

"is there some kind of school assembly you haven't told me about?" she continued, still in awe of the fact that her tomboy daughter had voluntarily decided to wear something that didn't have a crotch and wasn't made of jean material decorated with grass and mud stains to school.

"no!"

mom studied me for a second before a knowing look grew within her eyes. she stepped closer to me and placed her arm around my shoulder, hugging me to her side. DANGITY DANG. i knew what that meant. it meant that no matter what secret i thought i'd buried from her, her mother's instinct had dug it up. i sighed heavily and waited for her to speak.

"so what's his name?"

DANG DANG DANG! how does she KNOW these things? i stood still and stubborn for a second, debating on whether or not i should try to lie about it.

"you can tell me, baby." she whispered soothingly as she hugged me again, "i won't get upset."

i pouted as i realized it was too early in the morning for me to think up a convincing enough lie.

"there's a boy at school," i offered grudgedly, "but i can't tell you who he is!" i added in a rush.

at this my mom was quiet. then she started unplaiting the mangled cornrows i'd put in my hair the night before.

"i'll braid your hair this morning," she said softly, "let me go put on the oatmeal and wake your brother. i'll be back in a minute."

i sighed with relief when she left, then rushed to get dressed, the whole time thinking about keith and how he'd react when he saw me in a skirt. i was pulling on my knee-hi's when mom came back ten minutes later. she had a comb and brush in one hand, a jar of grease in the other. she sat on the bed while i pulled over a stool and placed it between her legs, plopping down on it with my legs spread wide.

"what i tell you about that?" i heard mom's voice gently scolding me from above my head. "only boys and hoochies sit with their legs wide open" i answered without speaking. i hastily closed my legs and pulled my skirt over my knees. mom started parting my hair, greasing my scalp as she prepared to braid it.

"so you don't want to tell me who this boy is," she said contemplatively as she continued working on my hair. when she paused, i figured she was waiting for an answer.

"not yet, mom," i answered pleadingly, covertly crossing my fingers as i told her "i don't even know if he likes me yet."

she started braiding my hair before she spoke again.

"does this boy live in the neighborhood?"

i could tell she was trying to do the process of elimination thing.

"he lives behind the school," i said slowly, careful not to get tricked into divulging more information than was necessary. moms are slick with that particular maneuver.

"do i know him?" she asked. my mind rewinded to all of the boys she'd met who were friends of mine.

"yes."

"do i know his parents?"

DANGITY. aiight, so now i wasn't so sure how many parents she'd met...

"i think so," i said, then realizing she might panic if she didn't know them, i added "yes, i'm sure you know them."

she remained silent as she finished braiding my hair. as she patted my hair and i stood up, she finally spoke.

"you know i can find out who he is, right?"

"i know, mom." i grew leery cuz i knew she could. "i promise i'll tell you soon."

"okay," she said warningly, "just so you know. i expect you to tell me very soon."

she kissed the top of my head and left the room. i put on my brand new sebagos, grabbed my bookbag and walked out after her. aswad was already in the kitchen eating when we entered. he looked up from his bowl and gasped.

"mom! nikki's wearing a skirt!"

i scowled at him as i grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and stepped over to the stove to fill it with oatmeal. mom laughed.

"she wears skirts to school sometimes you know," she repeated my words to him, laughter in her voice as she turned to me and winked. i rolled my eyes and sat down at the table. aswad was looking at me closely, like he was trying to figure out what i didn't say. i ignored him and started eating.

by the time 'swad and i were walking to school, i was thinking the skirt was a big mistake. all of the kids from the surrounding neighborhoods were also making their way to school and i was quickly becoming the subject of the furtively whispered conversations taking place around me. i swallowed into a tight throat as i felt everyone's eyes on me.

"what's with the skirt, nikki?" this question wrapped in a snicker came from calvin, the neighborhood football star and my frequent teammate whenever we played football on my street. i looked at him with a whisper of disdain on my face.

"no reason," i replied coolly as i straightened my spine, rearranged the bookbag on my shoulder, and kept moving.

"you look like a girl," he taunted from behind me. i heard some of the other boys laugh at his statement.

"DUH," i said as the aggravation crawled into my voice, "i AM a girl!"

i could feel 'swad getting angry as he walked next me. when he heard the boys laugh at what i said he turned around to face them.

"LEAVE MY SISTER ALONE!"

his yelled declaration pulled the plug on sound and the laughter drained away as everyone stared at the fury twisting 'swad's face. considering the fact that he was at least a head shorter than most of the boys there, i was shocked they stopped. they must have seen something in his eyes though, cuz they backed down. nothing else was said as we all headed towards school. i smiled a little at 'swad. when it came down to it, he could be ridiculously protective for someone so short.

by the time we stepped onto the school grounds, i was a walking mass of nervousness. i had begun tugging at the hem of my skirt and patting my newly plaited hair in preparation for when damon first saw me.

and then there he was walking towards us.

monday musings

yeah i know...i haven't finished either damon or friday's story yet. i got smacked in the mouf by a block of writers and the pain from it is preventing me from thinking straight. what? that excuse ain't working for you? you know what i got to say for that right? good, cuz i ain't trying to cuss this early in the morning...

i was watching rudolph the rednosed reindeer last week and was struck by how totally cruel everybody was. now i know folk had to be mean in order for the plot to roll smoothly, but did they have to have santa reject rudolf too? santa was a straight up bastid. he disses rudolph cuz he's different. in fact, santa was a user too, like the only reason he gave rudolph props is cuz he needed him to deliver the toys. if that night had been clear and bright, rudolph would still be getting dissed to this day. even his dad was hating. dad should have had his back and you know it. he should have told everybody to go fuck themselves for laughing at rudolph. instead he got that poor kid feeling as though he's a freak. they need parenting classes up there.

and that head elf was mean too. why he have to yell at hermey like that? i mean, who's taking care of the teeth around there anyway? somebody gotta do it. frankly, i think hermey really wanted to come out of the closet. i know i wasn't the only one to see how emfeminent he was.

i watched that show and knew without doubt that i was never gonna show that shit to my kids (when i have them). santa and the folk he put in power up there at the north pole didn't embrace diversity or encourage independence until it was in their best interests to do so. damn if that don't sound like america...

aiight, so i don't brush my teeth until i get to to work. why? to prevent folk from coming into my office first thing in the morning. now they don't stop by until at least 9 a.m. unless they don't mind stinky breath.

i was decorating the tree with my mom last night. she still has these decorations my brother and i made when we were in elementary school. anybody else have decorations that old still hanging from their tree?

i called the tree a 'petite prostitute' cuz it's short and volumptuous with birthing hips. mom was not amused.

ever since my parents got d.irect tv my dad hoards the television in the living room like a kid who refuses to share his toy with others. sometimes i wanna smack him in the head and be like "dude other folk wanna watch shit too." i mean damn, how you gonna have the nfl package and not even watch the fucking football games?

i was talking to a blogger last night and we were coming up with different lines to use when approached by an ugly dude at a bar. mine included:

"i know you thought i was winking at you, but really i was wincing cuz i've never seen that much ugly on one face before..."

"here's my number...give me a call and i can set you up with my bulldog. something tells me you two would make really cute puppies..."

"you must have some really cute kids. how do i know? cuz i heard only ugly folk make cute kids..."

"do you have a big dick? i ask because there has to be something in this for me...."

"you eat pussy right? i ask because when a dude's face is in between my legs i could care less what he looks like..."

"i haven't said anything yet because i'm waiting for you to bark at me."

"a brotha gotta be real ugly if even the low lighting in the club doesn't help his looks..."

"you need to buy me a shitload of drinks cuz i need to be really drunk before i give you my phone number..."

"i said i like it doggie-style, not that i was into be.astial.ity..."

"i would give you my number but i really don't want to go through the whole process of having to label you as the 'butt ugly dude' in my phone and avoiding your calls."

"turn around and let me look at your ass. i'm trying to find your good side..."

aiight, so some of them i made up just now...

anyway, i'll keep plugging away at those stories. yes, i'm gonna finish them. stop looking at me with that cynical look, ladynay...

have a wonderful monday!

why you wanna go and do that?

"what's the name of this place again?" i asked candice as we made our way to the billiards hall.

"'rollers'," she responded casually, as she glanced around her at the other people headed in the same direction.

it was a friday night in july. a warm breeze made its way across my body like a lover's tongue, licking my skin and plastering my clothes to my body. candice and i had been to a club damn near every weekend since june, but we had yet to visit this spot. i stared at the building, noting the disheveled bricks making up the old building we were walking towards. it didn't look like much, but i was excited cuz i'd heard it was the most popular friday night spot in atlanta for us black folk. i could already hear the music from the live band kissing the air around us as we stepped in line and waited for entrance.

pulling out my id, i looked up and into the face of one of the security guys at the door. i stopped mid-motion, caught up in the brown depths of his eyes. well looky here...

i placed my stare at his feet and climbed the mountain of his form with my eyes, finding a foothold on his thick thighs before leaping over the bulge between his legs, landing at the flat terrain of his stomach. i walked the rest of the way up, stopping to appreciate the scenery his broad shoulders provided before crawling up a thick neck. i took a leasurely stroll through the field of his soft lips, admiring the curve of his nose before finally ending at the oasis of his eyes.

i knew before i left that night i was gonna get to know that cat better.

(i'm gonna continue with this, just wanted to get the blog back on track with a funny story about something that went down this summer LOL. the rest will be on this afternoon after i knock some of this work out...oh, and damon will be finished on monday.)

time will reveal

"What can I do..."

he was two years younger than me, which in elementary school is calculated in dog years. i was a seventh-grader to his fifth-grader status, the older 'woman' who had no time for the little boys in school when there were recently branded eighth-grade men living on my block. i had even less time for a fifth-grader who just so happened to be one of my younger brother's best friends.

not that i hadn't noticed him, i mean what girl wouldn't? he was bone red when redbone was in, naturally curly brown hair cut into a box fade framing a strong brow and high cheekbones. he had eyes the shade of diaphanous envy, so light a green as to almost make me think i'd imagined they had any color to them at all. his body was just right for the shirts and pressed jeans he wore to school every day and his penny loafers shined brown with newborn copper pennies catching a sliver of sunshine whenever he walked. so what if he was an inch or two shorter than me? i was the second tallest girl in school behind stephanie jackson so i could count on one hand the number of boys who could look me in the eye from the same height. and really...damon was beautiful...

and in the fifth grade.

which put him firmly in the 'heck no' zone.


"...to make you feel secure?"

AND he wasn't an athlete. the previous spring he played on the same baseball team as my brother and while he'd looked positively dreamy (for a fifth-grader) in his maroon pirates uniform right down to the shiny cleats he wore, he was an abomination at the plate and on the field. just the sight of him walking towards the batter's box had the ability to bring forth a collective groan from the crowd in the stands. even his father shook his head in dismay as he watched damon swing for the ball like it was a pinata and he the a blindfolded birthday boy. fall would see him clodding over grass with cleated shoes as he tried to elude charging defensive linemen, the offering of trembling and uncoordinated adolescent flesh his father was more than willing to sacrifice to the football gods. only they wouldn't take him. instead the crowd became a collection of flinches and winces as we watched damon time and again end up beneath a pile of pop warner pigskin players.

his struggles, while heart-rending to me at the time, reminded me of why his lack of athletic prowess would never do as i was the neighborhood tomboy and had a reputation to maintain. getting with a girly-man would have stripped me of all street cred, and that was important to a girl who had to fight for her place on the street football squad even though everybody knew she had softer hands than art monk. no...he wouldn't do at ALL.

he was thrust into "no way in heck" land and there was nothing he could do about it save catch a one-handed game-winning touchdown over a leaping safety in the corner of the end zone during the final seconds of the super bowl.

and yet for some reason, i had a crush on him.


"remove all your doubts..."

was it the fact that he was the epitome of everything i wasn't? i mean, he was more beautiful than i was for sure. it was obvious he took care in how he looked. he was always perfectly pressed, as though his clothes were impervious to wrinkles. his izod shirt or polo button-down always matched his pants and his footwear was pristine. if he wore sneakers they always looked like he'd just pulled them out of the box brand new. his hair always looked like he'd just gone to the barbershop that morning to get a shape-up before coming to school. even his bookbag looked brand new, a glistening square of cloth perfection hanging just right on his back. damon was smart and popular, even among the kids not in his grade. girls of all grades swooned around him.

meanwhile, i usually tumbled out of bed and stumbled into the first outfit i landed on. if i wore the same shirt twice in a week i didn't care. a few times i'd actually worn two different shoes to school, but penny loafers and sebagos look amazingly similar in morning darkness so it couldn't be helped. more times than not i showed up to school in jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers so as to be prepared for the impromtu game of football or basketball. my hair? mom had me cornrowing it myself at this point and it was little more than two misshapened lumps of braided hair on opposite sides of my head. my bookbag was ripped at the side from where i'd dropped it in street and watched it be run over, vomiting my books everywhere as it popped open beneath the weight of the car. i was smart and popular among the guys who needed a capable receiver on their teams. the only dudes who swooned around me were the boys falling behind me as i ran towards the end zone.

oh, and i was four-eyed.

yeah, he was everything i wasn't. he was quality clothing, a blazer made of the finest silk threads and tailored so as to create a flawless line across the shoulders and fall just so down the wearer's torso. i was that printed t-shirt that shrank and faded after one washing, the letters cracked and shriveled as i pinched tightly across the wearer's shoulders, stretching threadbare across her chest as my puckered edges fell three inches short of her waistband.

but he was still a fifth-grader. no seventh-grader in her right mind would ever contemplate having a fifth-grader for a boyfriend, no matter how cute and popular he was.

it would never work...


"so that you know for sure..."

damon had started coming to our house more often as he and little bro spent more time together, eventually becoming best friends. it got to where no matter what day it was, i would end up staring into damon's laughing face in our house as he and 'swad and their friend marc cracked jokes or wrestled or whatever the heck best guy friends do when they're hanging out. at first i was giddy about it. i didn't get to see him that much in school because we were in different grades so him being at our house afforded me uninterrupted minutes of staring at him on the sly. i'd stand just inside the kitchen entrance, head bent over the table as i pretend i was focused on the preparation of my pb&j sandwich, all the while stealing glances into the living room where the three of them rough-housed on the floor or watched television. during that time i know i ate enough pb& j sandwiches to feed a small nation, but it was the only way i could think of that would keep me in the area without them knowing i was doing it on purpose.

every now and again i'd slide a look into the living room and catch damon with his eyes on me. my heart would stop and i'd turn away quickly, trying to play like i didn't even look his way. it occurred with more frequency as the weeks went by and it was then i started to feel uncomfortable.

what does he see when he looks at me?

does he see the jagged edges of my fingers, nails bitten nervously to the quick? does he see the mismatched cornrows planted haphazardly across my head? does he see the t-shirt with the grape stain right below a chest squeezed into a training bra already uncomfortably tight after only two weeks of wear? does he see jeans polka dotted with grass and mud stains and torn at the knee from where i tried to imitate drew pearson diving across the middle to catch a pass?

what does he think when he looks at me?

he's probably laughing at me right now. i look a mess. i'm too tall and too big and my glasses are all scratched up and they're so corny, all large and nerdy looking. my clothes don't fit and they're raggety and i know i smell. he's looking at me and thinking every girl he's ever seen is prettier than me. he probably doesn't even think i'm a girl.

i decided then i couldn't be around him anymore. i made a point of being in the street whenever he stopped by, focusing my attention on playing with my friends. i couldn't face the idea that he was looking at me and finding me lacking. i'd rather get hit helmet first by a hundred too tall joneses than to face that.


"...that you're the apple of my eye girl..."

the yearning grew within me, an insidious vine of hunger crawling across the bricks of my being, rooting itself deeply into the mortar of my mental. the self-inflicted blindness to his form only sharpened my other senses to his presence. i no longer had to see damon to know he was around. i'd walk in the school hallway and feel the hairs on my arms rise and my skin would start to tighten and i'd know he was somewhere around me. i heard his laugh as though he was right next to me blowing chuckles into my ear, imprinting his smile on my eardrums. i could feel his breathing against my skin as surely as if he had his nose pressed close enough to smell the scent of the marrow in my bones. he never approached me, never stopped me in between classes to make small talk, and yet i knew he watched me. at times i'd pop my eyes around quickly and ensnare his covert stare for a second before releasing it frantically and damn near running in the opposite direction of him. i really didn't know what to make of him, but i wasn't courageous enough to find out, even if he was two years younger than me.


"...fulfillment of my dreams..."

i had just limped into the house, sweaty and short of breath after two hours of basketball with the crew. my knee was skinned, dripping blood onto the frayed lips of a mouth torn open on my jeans. my ankle was throbbing from where ced had fallen on it and i knew it was swelling. i looked quickly into the living room and sighed with relief when i saw it was empty. i slowly made my way into the kitchen where i opened the freezer, pulled out an ice tray, and popped the cubes from its pockets before cramming them into a ziploc bag. then i limped down the hallway to my room, falling tiredly onto my bed as i pulled up my leg and gingerly placed the bag of ice on my ankle. i was sitting there forcing myself through the torture of allowing the cold to numb me to the pain when i felt something pressing into my butt. leaning over, i reached my hand beneath me and yanked out what looked to be a folded sheet of paper and a tape. i unfolded the sheet of paper and stared at it for a minute, my mind still sprawled across the ache in my knee and ankle. the words neatly penned across the page were slowly being absorbed by my brain. i read it three time before snapping to full attention.

i read it one more time, just to make sure i wasn't dreaming...

"dear nikki

i thought i would be able to write a letter telling you how i feel about you, but i can't come up with the words. i taped this song instead. i hope you like it.

love,

damon"

LOVE?

i fell off the bed in my frenzy to get to my tape player across the room, wincing once as i tripped over my feet. my heart was hammering a mile a minute, the pain of my ankle and knee evaporating in the wake of the hope building a fire within my veins. the anticipation and trepidation entrapped my breath within my lungs. i forced myself to calm down as i my fingers became all thumbs and i fumbled with the tape before finally jamming it successfully into the player.

i stood still and looked at the tape nestled in the deck.

i exhaled.

and then i pressed play...

monday musings

i got stopped from making the playoffs in the blogger's fantasy league by 2.42 points. ain't that a bitch? oh well, at least i'm still in first place in the other league.

blogger pick 'em? BLECH.

i'm sorry luv, washington really IS that bad...

i'll be in las vegas dec. 25 through dec. 28. i'm hella excited!

you know, morgan freeman would be on my list of men to fuck too. he looks like he'd handle his.

just know that i know. eventually everyone else will know too. btw...that's some really sick shit there...

i thought the motor on stroker ace had finally died cuz it was weakly whurring against my clit on saturday. it was doing it for WEEKS. turns out the battery was in it the wrong way. why did i feel like a guy who had fucked his girl the wrong way? i bought stroker a dozen roses and told it i was sorry for treating it so poorly. it worked perfectly the next day, which let me know it forgave me. evidently vibrators are just as gullible as sistas are.

i bought a subscription to g.q. mag. after reading its man of the year issue. who knew g.q. could be such a fascinating read? then again, 80% of my motivation was the ads with all those beautiful men in them. this despite the fact that half of those guys would take one look at my vagina and ask me "what is that?"

i remember being fascinated with tongue twisters as a child. i'd sit there for hours by myself trying to say them fast, as though accomplishing the task would somehow confirm my genius. now i look back on it and realize i needed a life.

how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood? first off, if the woodchuck can't chuck wood, why the fuck do we call it a woodchuck? secondly, unless we can hire a woodchuck to chuck wood for minimum wage sans health benefits, should we even care how much wood he could chuck?

can i say i had to check what a woodchuck was on wiki? did i just make a new tongue twister?!?

sandy sold seashells by the seashore. is that code for 'sandy was a prostitute in delaware'?

i wonder how much i could get for selling my 'seashells'. probably not enough to buy a cup of coffee. then again, it takes a second mortgage on a house to buy coffee these days. fuck you skankbucks.

have you ever looked at a really tanned white person and thought to yourself "he/she got some black folk swinging from a branch of that family tree..."?

have you ever looked at a white person with wooly hair and thought to yourself "i wonder if he/she is 'passing'?

i have a side of my family that's 'passing'. my grandmother's brother cut the fam out and said he was no longer 'black' and that she and her momz should never contact him again as he wouldn't acknowledge them. this happened during the 1920s...a time when it dangerous to be black (as if there has ever been a time when it wasn't...)

sometimes i wonder what happened to him and his fam. like, would i recognize any of them if i saw them in the street? probably not. for real though...there are ALOT of black folk doing this. i'm not sure if this cat is passing, as he's said his dad is black, but ain't no way on first glance you see this cat and think "that's a black dude".

makes you wonder, don't it?




there are times when i ask myself just what is 'race'? i mean, the only race that makes sense to me is the human race. the whole black race/white race thing to me is little more than some person's attempt to separate in order to justify hatred/oppression based on perceived inferiority. in other words, if he's another 'race' then his behavior can't be compared to mine, his worthiness is different from mine, etc. meanwhile, this 'indian' was actually sicilian (really folk...they couldn't find ONE actual native american for this campaign?) cuban actor an.dy ga.rcia has made his bank offa playing italian mafia types for years. ang.elina jol.ie is playing a black woman in her new movie. in other words, we really aren't all that different, folk. then again, i'm pretty sure jen.nifer anist.on could never play me in anything.

i remember seeing this white dude in a history book and saying "damn, he looks just like my pops." turns out he was one of my dad's ancestors...a slave owner and state representative who hated black folk with a passion as he voted for not only continued slavery, but wrote shit saying black folk were little more than animals. funny, but he had no problem sticking his dick and spewing his seed into at least one of 'em. i wonder if the dogs on his plantation had sore assholes...

aiight, enough of that...

so if a guy says he's married when he approaches you wanting your number so he can fuck you on the side, does he get brownie points? i ask because i had a friend tell me last week he knows he talks alot, but he doesn't stop. on the one hand, i appreciate the brotha for knowing himself that well. on the other hand, if he knows and still doesn't stop, does he expect a cookie?

"i'm a serial killer..."

"for real, ted? well let me bake you these cookies now so you can eat them over my dead body. just make sure you don't get any crumbs on my outfit."

then again...

"i really think black folk ARE inferior..."

"for real, michael? thanks for letting me know how you really feel. now i can stop watching your shows and supporting your career with my money."

in that particular case, honesty would have been preferred...

the only reason florida is playing for the championship is cuz nobody wants to see michigan and ohio state again. fucked up ain't it? count me as one of the folk who still don't give a shit.

one good thing about being surrounded by unattractive men at work...i can roll up to work in sweat pants and a sweat shirt and not feel bad about it.

happy monday folk!

welcome to fuckdonalds...what will you have?

this was pimped offa mistress who pimped it offa lavender squirts. i didn't link lavender cuz you really gotta be in a safe spot to view her blog. i made the mistake of checking her from work and almost got my feelings hurt yesterday. you can get ler link from mistress though.

there are moments when it's just me and my friend stroker ace. it's at times like this when a list such as the one i've compiled are most useful, as i can just whip this bad boy out, close my eyes, and fantasize that the buzzing noise i hear is the brotha into my ear. i wonder if they make dildos with sound effects...something to look into.

anyway, if i'm in the mood for a burger and fries, i'm not gonna order seafood...therefore, booty calls should be made with that in mind. here is my list.

chiwetel ejiofor

is it his accent? maybe...
more than that though, it's those soulful eyes of his. i look at him and see there's an intelligent spirit in there and THAT'S sexy. he's the brotha i'd fuck after spending hours debating politics and life. oh, and i'd make sure he kept talking to me..."i'm gonna roger you in your bum" or whatever they call "fucking you up the ass" in england...

djimon hounsou

i remember when i first checked him on jan.et jac.kson's video back in the day. i remember thinking "who da hell is THAT?!?" you ladies know what i'm talking about. if janet didn't get a piece of that i'm totally disappointed in her. that chocolate skin is just ITCHING to be licked and i've got my tongue poised and ready to get a bit o' that hershey. oh, and he's got some of the prettiest teeth i've ever seen. this is the cat i'd call if i wanna sleep in the silk sheets of his skin after trying every standing fucking position available (he has those long legs...)

michael jai white

no list, and i mean NO list of mine is complete without this brotha here. have you SEEN this body? he's that cat i call if i want a marathon session of nothing but straight up, bone shaking, back breaking fucking from sundown to sun up...two weeks later. every conversation i have with him would start off with "don't talk, just fuck" cuz i doubt we have much in common but that's aiight.

unfortunately, he's not that good of an actor, but there's no acting involved when it comes to sex, unless i have to fake it, and i won't have to fake it with this cat.

wait...i might have to fake being willing to let him leave my house...

reginald ballard

DO NOT HATE. you KNOW you were looking at this cat when he stole his way into martin's living room and thinking to yourself...that dude is HELLA fuckable. he just LOOK like he got a big dick. maybe it's the thighs. look at that smile and tell me he's not appealing. this dude is just sexy. i don't know why he is...maybe it's cuz i see a down to earth brotha when i check him. i love me a cat who can make me laugh and a man with a little something extra ain't a bad thing at all. he's that cat i'd call if i wanna ride it all day cuz he'd be sweating all over my ass if i had to make him do much of the work. we'd probably be laughing about it too, and laughter during sex always makes for a better experience for me (unless it's laughter in that 'where did this guy learn how to fuck, sesame street?' sort of way)

terrance howard

man, where do i START? just enough length to his body, just enough sun to his skin, just enough softness to those lips...but what does it for me is that twinkle in his eye. whenever i look at him i always get the feeling he's laughing at some joke nobody's in on. he's got an intelligent vibe about him too, you know? he exudes sensuality too. and that voice...he's that cat i'd call if i wanted to fuck while surrounded by candles and some old marvin gaye on the radio. i'd bring out the satin sheets for this cat, cuz this would be one of those long and slow, ebb and flow type sessions where we tell each other exactly what we're gonna do to each other before we make love, go to sleep, and i wake him up with his dick in my mouth or something...aiight, i'm starting to get too worked up here. on to the next dude...

joe morton

yeah, yeah, yeah...i know you didn't see this one coming, but hear me out. this cat has texture to him, like a really high-quality tweed coat. i could get caught up in the fibers of his life experiences alone. he just strikes me as a guy who is an independent thinker and that makes for freakiness. he looks like he could go downtown and know what the hell he's doing. i'd call him when i'm in the mood for something mostly oral.

wood harris

actually, i like both him and his brother steve, but wood is a poet so i gotta give him the nudge here. a poet with the body of a warrior and lips that look like they could suck the clit right off a sista and she'd had no idea he'd just swallowed it. brotha has style and knows how to wear a hat. he's the cat i'd call when i wanna quote poetry while fucking and do ALOT of kissing.

Morris Chestnut

really, this was a no-brainer. brotha been fine since ice cube was wearing a juicy jheri curl. this is the cat i'd call if i wanna go out and show him off to my girlfriends like "look what I'VE got!" before i take him home, tie him up to the bed, and just wreak havoc on his body with my sensual torture methods.

ben wallace

why? well, isn't it self-evident? look at those arms! also, with ups like that you KNOW he's got the legs, which means for once i can let someone else do all the work if necessary. he's the cat i call if i wanna try doing it from atop furniture or hanging from light fixtures. afterwards i'd sit him between my legs, grease and massage his scalp, and braid his hair.









i could go on and on with this list, but these are the cats i thought of just now. i might have to do this one again, cuz i've still gotta put up my 'cat to call when i want the toe jamb sucked offa my toes cuz i'm too cheap to pay for a proper pedicure', 'dude to call when i want to fuck with the lights out and don't mind the fact that he's ugly as hell', 'brotha to call when i just need a warm body cuz it's cold outside and everybody else on my list has told me to stop calling them with my crazy ass before they sic the cops on me' and 'poor sap to call when all i really need is my house cleaned and he's just desperate enough to do it cuz he hasn't had ass in like a decade and will probably even be willing to pay a bill or two for just a wiff of the coochie.'


have a great weekend folk!