Word??? Spring, You Gonna Try Me Like That?

We just talked about this, Spring! Matter of fact, I'm not speaking to you anymore. Consider yourself cut off. I'm gonna talk about you to my blog fam. They always have my back, whereas you always be trying a brotha..

Man, Spring tried to steal my joy this weekend, but couldn't do it. Saturday was one of those days that last year woulda messed with my head. I'm driving around like I always do when the four walls start moving in on me. I get in my car and I'm chatting on the phone with one of my "once a month" friends. I bust a right on to Arcadia from Ponce De Leon, and all of a sudden the car jerks to the left. Like all the way into oncoming lanes of traffic. Like if there was actually any traffic, I would have ran directly into a head on collision. I try to correct, but the steering wheel doesn't want to cooperate. I finally manage to get back into the correct lane and fight the steering wheel to get off the road. I didn't know what was going on. I figured the power steering had went out, but not knowing anything about cars except how to put gas in and drive, I wasn't sure. I'm sitting in the K.roger parking lot trying to figure out what to do, when by a stroke of luck, I see a tire shop. Yes, I know that this problem had nothing to do with my tires, but I figured one of the technicians could possibly tell me what was wrong.

I fight the wheel for a little longer until I get to the shop, hazard lights flashing to signify don't get behind me. The guy at the shop pops the hood and tells me that my steering belt has completely popped and also something is wrong with alternator and some other stuff that sounded like Greek to me. He tried to make me feel stupid for a quick minute until I hit him with The Smirk and he backed off. Apparently I was supposed to hear that the belt was about to pop, but yeah, I didn't. Anyway, long story short, they can fix it, but they were closing so they couldn't get to it to the next day. Cool, crisis averted. No big deal. My months of being a miser have left me with enough left over money that the amount they quoted me wasn't stressing me out. Just fix my joint and I'm good.

But then I had to figure out a way to get home. Call my sister.. her cell is off. Call my brother, he's an hour away. Thought about calling some of the homies but they all live on the other side of town, and I didn't want to do that to them. I figured that I could just take a bus home. So, I walked to the nearest bus stop, but those buses weren't going in my direction, not to mention, I didn't know the number of the bus that goes right by my crib. I get the bright idea that I'm gonna walk home. I kinda needed to clear my head, and walking always seems to work. So, I'm walking down the street and then I remember that Lawrenceville Highway is not exactly pedestrian friendly. Only by the time that I actually process this information, I'm already a good 2 miles into my trek, and far past the point where I could stop and call a cab. So I cross the 4 lanes of traffic and keep on walking until I get to N.orth Dek.alb M.all. Did I mention that it was raining? I had an umbrella, (just a basic black umbrella, Stace. No Burberry patterns) but it started raining like crazy. I finally broke down and called a cab. A $10 ride later and I was home.

Getting home, I thought stuff was gonna be better, but Spring decided to play one last cruel joke on me. Why was my internet not working? Com.cast got me. You know the first thing I wanted to do when I got home was to blog about what just happened, but I couldn't. My internet was down until like 6 o clock Sunday evening. The thing that was so stupid about it, is the cable was working, but the internet, not so much. I even missed my standing Saturday night emailing session with Jameil. The lack of interweb was almost as bad as walking home in the rain (but not as bad as paying $592 to get my whip fixed.) Spring couldn't break me though. The car people called me this morning and told me they would fix my ride today (even though I couldn't get it until Monday), the internet was back up when I got home this evening and I'm still in good spirits. Keep it coming, Spring. I'm stronger than you.

On another note, I took my nephew and one of his friends, and my niece to the A.tlanta Ha.wks-New Yo.rk K.nicks game today. It was cool. I actually was rooting against my all time favorite basketball team today, since their chances of being successful ended around the time that they didn't fire Is.iah Tho.mas, and Atlanta still has a chance to get destroyed by the B.oston Celt.ics make the playoffs. Our seats were mad nosebleed, but the way the Ph.illips Aren.a is designed, we saw everything just fine. After the game, the kids got to go on the court and shoot free throws. They had a great time and I felt like super uncle. I also saw a few people I worked with there, so I'm guessing I'll have to actually talk to them when I see them on Monday. When I got home, I watched the Wres.tleman.ia PPV with my brother. It was one of the brother bonding things we used to do every year back in the day, so it was cool to do that again even though I don't really watch wrestling anymore. Sunday was my day to hang with family.

One final note, the other day I wrote about my drunk night out. I called Kristie to fill in the blanks of the evening, since I had some gaps. Apparently, the Haitian was trying to holla at the drunk girl, and I cockblocked him. Oops, my bad. Really, it wasn't intentional but who can resist my charms? these things happen sometimes. LOL I think Kristie was exaggerating, but she told me that we were all touchy feely that night and she thought I was gonna go home with the girl. Also, even though I forgot to get her number, I was straight enough to make sure she got my number as evidenced by a voicemail I got when I was at the basketball game. Now if I could only remember what she looked like. LOL

Okay, I think I have taken up enough of your time with my ramblings. The next Making The Blog is gonna be postponed until Wednesday, so if you haven't completed your assignments, you have an extra day. The rest of you, I'll be by to read what you wrote shortly. Have a good Monday, everybody!!!

Drink, Drank, Drunk

I don't know if I mentioned this on the blog, but for the last few months I have not been able to get drunk. No matter how much I drank, I could never make it past tipsy. If I kept drinking, then I would be tipsy and sick, but no drunkenness. Well tonight, Mission Accomplished. Yeah, your boy got good and drunk for a minute. I might be a little inebriated right now as I type this, but that's half the fun. I'll read this in the morning and be like "wow, I can't believe I typed this." LOL

Desy I fully aware that I'm biting off that idea that you told me, but you know what... too bad. LOL I'm gone off some Jack Daniels shots and a few Hennessys. You know how I know I was drunk? I actually picked up the tab for the people I was with. Yeah, I was feeling mad generous. Maybe because it was payday, but more likely because my mind wasn't right off the alcohol. I hung out with my little play sister Kristie and a couple of her co workers. One was a dude, lets forget about him, and the other was this hot chick named...shit, I can't remember her name. Oh, it was Karen, I think. I should probably come up with a blog nickname for her, but like I said, I'm still a little tipsy. She was cool as hell. She was my color with some long hair and sexy lips. You know I got a thing for lips. I couldn't tell exactly what her nationality was.. I know she was black and something, but I thought it might be rude to ask. LOL They were already drinking when I got there, since I didn't get off work until 10. When I got there, I hugged my friend and got introduced to the co workers. The guy was a Haitian, and for some reason he was speaking French. After my second shot, I joined in and started speaking French to the hot girl. She was impressed... she was drunk as hell, but impressed. We had some inappropriate for the first time meeting each other conversations and before long we were acting like old friends.

Ohhhh, before I forget, she was doing some crazy stuff. Like she decided to break out into a belly dance. It was a little stimulating. And she was fondling herself all night. She was in love with her own breasts because "she didn't get any until she graduated from college." It was crazy. The more I drank, the more attractive she became. I wonder what she actually looks like. LOL I seem to recall leaving a big ass tip for the bartender too. Man, when I sober up, I'm gonna be mad at the money I spent. Did I mention we were at Dave and Busters, which I am extremely tired of, but served the purpose for tonight. Yeah, I got twisted. What was I saying... Oh yeah, so after we got done drinking we went to the back to play some games. Me and Karen, (I have no idea how its spelled) did a couple of racing games that illustrated that she was in no shape to drive home. I wasn't that much better since I hadn't eaten in almost 24 hours, but I was better. We also played drunken basketball and drunken air hockey. Not just me and Karen, but all four of us. It served the desired purpose of sobering us up enough so that we wouldn't get a DUI.

I don't remember how it happened but for some reason in the parking lot, we (me and Karen) started wrestling. I think I had said something smart to her, but I can't recall what it was. Anyway, so we were wrestling in the parking lot when the police was like "move along" so we did. I walked her to her car while the Haitian walked Kristie to the car. We talked for a minute, and then she rode out. I forgot to get her number, but I'm sure I'll see her again if I'm not being anti social.

So, I went out and got a little drunk. Good times. I'm sure when I look back at this post I'll have the WTF look on my face, but for now, I feel good. Almost good enough to go out again tomorrow. We'll see what happens. I'm gonna sign on to Yahoo Messenger now and have some crazy conversation until I fall out. One!

Making The Blog Pt 7

I'm too lazy to link all 6 previous posts, just take a look at the label "Making the Blog" for the previous posts.


Rashan (VoiceOver): Confessions… It just got hot up in here. I read things I didn’t expect to hear. I know I asked for it , but I didn’t think they would come that hard! I don’t know how I can cut anybody after that display. They all represented. Let’s see what happens

New Scene: The bloggers are hanging around outside the mansion in the pool area. It’s a warm spring day, so they are in shorts and short sleeved shirts. Jameil is standing next to the grill with her plate waiting for a burger. Desy and Dejanae are dancing and drinking Kremas. The other bloggers are scattered around the yard and swimming pool. The Cha Cha slide plays in the background. Enter Jizzy!

Rashan: What is that? Who playing the Cha Cha Slide in my crib?

Tom Gurl: Technically, we outside the crib.

Rashan: For real, didn’t I just tell y’all bout my smirk. Well take a good look. I’m tripping on this right here.

Diva: Just cuz you can’t dance…

Rashan: I can dance. Didn’t you see me doing the wop, the other day?

Monie: Okay, Okay… we’ll turn it off. Please just don’t dance again.

Rashan: Thanks Monie, *winks* Everybody gather round…

The bloggers gather round Jizzy who is standing on a picnic table.

Confessional:
Magnolia: He had to stand on that table so we can see his wee tail. He’s a short little dude, probably why he tries so hard to be hard.

Resume Scene:

Rashan: Ay, yo! Is everybody here? Where’s Eps?

Everybody looks around

Rashan: Jameil, what’s going on with your team? I don’t accept this tardiness.

Jameil: Where’s the fries, son? You can’t have a burger without the fries.

Rashan: Worry about your frust later Jam. One of your team members ain't here. Jizzy don't like that.

Eps comes running in adjusting his locs...

Eps: Sorry I'm late, Jizzy. But I had a good reason. I just don't wanna talk about it now.

Rashan: Excuse me? It sounded like you were just late and then had the nerve to not even come up with a reason. What's the deal, son? We don;t roll like that on Making The Blog...

Eps: For real, I don't wanna talk about it.

Eps storms off with a mean mug on his face.

Rashan: Jameil, can you handle that for me? Thanks.

Jameil: I got it... people are soooo extra.

Rashan: Now the rest of you...I read all your confessions. I have to say that I'm disappointed...

Confessional:
Stace: What more can he want? I got gangsta with my confession. I know he can't be trippin on me.

Resume Scene

Rashan: That's right. I'm mad disappointed, son! Disappointed I didn't make ya'll do that earlier. Them confessions was on point, yo!

Confessional:
Dejanae: His bootleg ass didn't scare me with that bootleg suspense. I'm saying, he wasn't gonna kick me off this bootleg blog. That would be bootleg.

Diva: Team Diva represented, didn't they?

Rashan: No, doubt. I gotta shout out 3 of y'all especially for putting it all out there. Stace, La and X? You guys really did it big. If I was a nicer blog master, you would be exempt from the next assignment. But, I'm mean, so you still have to do it...

Confessional:
X Factor - Ooooh, he makes me sick. I should have at least gotten a free pass for my confession.

Resume Scene:

Rashan: Team Jameil, what's up? Team Diva kinda wiped the floor with you. What happened?

Desy: They just some freaks, that's all. I don't have stories like that. I'm a virgin.

Rashan: I'm saying you guys did do some confessions, but they were kinda sanitized. I need bloggers that are gonna just put it all out there.

The Goddess: As I recall, your confession wasn't even your confession. How can you talk about us like that?

Rashan: Here we go again. The Goddess always talking like this is a democracy. It's not, this is a Jizzocracy. Not that I have to explain myself, but I did 2 confessions. Wasn't yours late, too?

Jameil reenters the room...

Rashan: What's up with Eps?

Jameil: You are sooo not gonna believe this, but his confession post got him arrested.

Rashan: Word? Where's he at now?

Jameil: There he is...

Eps reenters...

Eps: You got me arrested Jizzy! Had me confessing my crimes and the popo read about it and brought me in for questioning. I had to tell them it was fiction.

Rashan: You made it up?

Eps: Nah, but that's the only way they would let me go. I ain't messing with you no more, Jizzy!

Rashan: You made it to the next round, homey! Now go get you a drink and cool out.

Confessional:
Rashan: Damn, I ain't mean to get nobody locked up. I was just nosy. I knew I shoulda told them to use the word allegedly.

Tom Gurl - That was messed up. I hope they don't come after me for my confession. I was just a kid stealing.

Resume Scene:

Jameil: So, I hear you've been talking about my squad. It's not our fault that Team Diva is all about sex. There are other things to write about.

Rashan: You're right, but come on... Team Diva represented in this battle. And since Jizzy has declared them the winner of the confession competition, Diva gets to pick the next assignment.

Diva: Oh snap... okay, give me a minute to think of something....

Rashan: We'll meet back here in an hour. Everybody enjoy the food and drink but don't get too twisted cuz you are gonna have homework tonight. Go have some fun, get your blue black tan on, you've earned it.

New Scene:
La, Stace and X Factor are at a picnic table drinking. Caesar approaches.

Cannon: Whats good, ladies! Can Cannon rap with you for a minute?

La: Uhh, yeah sure why not.

Cannon - I read your posts and I'm just wondering if any of you need a fix right now. I could stick it in you real quick.

X Factor: The f*ck did you just say to me? Get yo young ass outta here!

Cannon: I'm saying I wont think you a smut jawn or nothing. We all grown, right?

Stace: I think you better go now.

Confessional:
Cannon: Man, I can't f*ckin beleive they fronted on your boy like that. I'm saying I read the blogs. I know what you all about.

La: I can't even get mad. At least he knows what he wants...He aint gonna get it, but at least he ain't a punk about it.

Resume Scene: Pocahontaz, Desy, Dejanae and Monie are talking while sitting by the pool.

Monie: So what do you guys think of Jizzy? I like the way his mind works.

Desy: Jizzy is an ass...Rashan is cool though.

Dejanae: He got a bootleg smart mouth. He's always saying something smart. He's a little strange...and I like it.

Pocahontaz: I like his lips.

Jizzy walks up and the women stop talking...

Rashan: What? Were you guys talking bout me? My spidey sense was going off...

Desy: Not everything is about you, ya know?

Dejanae: I'm grimacing at how concieted you are.

Monie: We were just having girl talk. Nothing much...

Rashan: Aiight then. I can take a hint. I'm out.

The ladies start laughing as Jizzy self consciously looks over his shoulder.

New Scene: R Jizzy is standing on the table again commanding attention. He stumbles a little, but plays it off.

Rashan: Okay gather round. I turn the floor over to one of my illustrious team captains... Opinionated Diva!

Diva: Thanks Jizzy. Your assignment is to write a post called "If I Ruled The Blog World."

THIS IS A REAL ASSIGNMENT. ALL MY MTB BLOGGERS SHOULD WRITE THIS POST!!! ANYBODY ELSE THAT WANTS TO GET IN ON THE FUN IS WELCOME TOO!

Confessional
Pocahontaz: That's my girl right there. Diva came up with a helluva idea...

Resume Scene: Nas and Lauryn Hill "If I Ruled The World" plays in the background.

Diva: The goal of this post is to tell us what you would do if you were in charge. What would you keep? What would you get rid of? Basically, the Blog World is yours to shape and mold. What would you do?

Jameil: Okay, I've already done something like this, so that means I'm exempt right?

Rashan: Team captains don't have to do it, but I think it would be very entertaining. I'm even gonna jump on this and come up with a post as well. Great idea, Diva.

Diva: Of course! Team Diva always shines. *gives side eye to Jameil*

Jameil: We'll see. You know I like to win. You don't remember how I crushed Jizzy in the consecutive posting contest? You can be next, Diva... Oooh, fries!!!

Jameil gets distracted by some french fries, so Jizzy takes over.

Rashan: Anybody got any questions? Good, then hop to it. We'll reconvene on Tuesday. As much as I dig you guys, eventually I'm gonna have to make some cuts. Keep that in mind while writing your posts. Peace!

Commercial Break

The Smirk

I got this little thing I do with my mouth... wait that sounds dirty, lemme rephrase. Bring it back selectah...

It's no secret that I often find myself incredulous at the stuff that goes on around me. When that happens, I usually break out into a smirk. That facial expression usually belies my true feelings about a situation or a person, no matter how much I try to hide it. I've tried to hold back the smirk, but it just doesn't work. Like a reflex, my head tilts a little, my brow furrows and a half smile comes over the left side of my face as if to say, "Really? You really just said that?" I can't help it. It's been known to lead to hurt feelings, misunderstandings or uncomfortable conversations, but there's nothing I can do about it. It's involuntary. Lately, The Smirk has been in full effect.

I was leaving work the other night when The Work Stalker stopped me. Its been about a month since we conversed, partially because I embarrassed the crap outta her and partially because I make an effort to stay far, far away from her. This night I was talking to my friend on my way out the building when she approached. "I heard they have some openings in your department. Can you tell me what kind of questions they ask in the interview?" Enter The Smirk. You really think I'm gonna help you get close to me again? After you blew up my phone, my IM, my email box? Really? I tried to keep an even face, but The Smirk wouldn't let me. It was obvious that I wanted no part of the conversation. "Oh, I'll just come find you later" Nah, don't do that.

I made it 33 years without being hit on by a guy. That's pretty impressive, especially since I live in Atlanta, home of the mythical down low brothas. But anyway, this guy was sitting with me because his computer was broken. At first, his questions just seemed like regular old questions. But as the conversation went on, I found myself fighting The Smirk. Did you really just ask me where the pictures of wifey and the kids are? Did you really say that 1 AM is your "hoeing time?" Did you really just ask me if I wanted to go to the club with you and your boys. Nah, bruh! I'm smirking now. You just tried me a little. Let me make this plain so there are no misunderstandings. "I don't really go to clubs, unless you talking about Strokers. (I don't have to link it for you to know thats a strip club, do I?)" His response..."oooohhhhh." Sorry buddy, me and you are on different teams. The Smirk was in full effect at that conversation.

I was reading this blog. I can't even give details because I don't want any blog beef. Well, I kinda do, but we'll refrain for now. The people I talk to regularly probably know who I'm talking about. Really, it's not so much a blog, as a plea for attention, and that's coming from a known narcissist. LOL. I can't even comment because I'm pretty sure anything I say would be considered mean. So, I'm reading (I have a sense of morbid curiosity) and something catches my eye. Immediately, The Smirk takes over. Luckily, nobody can see me, because if they did then they would know that I'm just a jerk a not a nice guy (at least not all the time) I'm like is it really that serious that you have to solicit comments? Really, The Smirk wants to know. The Smirk would also like to know what all these readers see in you, cuz we don't get it. Other than unintentional comic relief, the blog serves no purpose to me. *Smirk*

I'm pulling into the parking lot in front of my apartment. It's 3:30 in the morning and 35 degrees. A few feet away from me, 2 guys sans coats, jackets, hats or any other warming implementation are huddled together. At first I'm thinking, "oh, they smoking a blunt" only the familiar smell of marijuana is not wafting in the wind. Instead I see A FUCKING CRACK PIPE. The Smirk is coming out full blast. J's that close to my crib? I can't believe what I'm seeing. I know someone got merked at my complex before, but it ain't that hood to be having crackheads within my vicinity. I stood there with The Smirk on blast until they moved the hell away from my parking space. Am I gonna have to start locking my doors?

I was sitting at my computer writing a blog post. I got about halfway done and decided I didn't like it. Instead of trying to edit it, I just scrapped it and decided to write about something else. Enter The Smirk!!! Did I really put Making The Blog to the side to talk about the masculine version of the side eye? If anyone deserves The Smirk, it's me. Sorry about that. I'll try to resume the MTB series tomorrow. One!

Dear Spring

Dear Spring,

What up homey? When last we spoke we had some beef. I'm not even talking about the allergies or how you left your pollen all over the ride. You know what I'm talking about. I'm talking about 2007. You had me on some depression stuff, but I'm here to let you know, its not going down like that this year. I know I've always been partial to Autumn, but you and me have to ride together for 3 months, so we need to come to an understanding. There will be no more messing with my life like you did last year. I can hear you now saying its not entirely your fault, and you're right. Winter played a big part in it, but we since have made up and are old friends once again. I can't say the same for you just yet.

Last year about this time, I was going through some things. Nah, that ain't strong enough. I was going through some shit. Between the broke down cars (plural), and the job making significantly less than I was used to, to the females messing with my head, it just was not a good time for us. I mean really, it pains me to read the garbage I was writing. Or rather not writing because I only posted a total of 11 times in February, March and April. Some of the stuff was completely nuts, some of it just revealed that I was depressed or something. The drafts that I didn't post are even worse. I was truly on some Oscar the Grouch stuff. That's your fault, my dude! Spring is supposed to be the time of new beginnings, but you had me dwelling on hurtful days gone by instead of getting past the pain.

I think about that time last year, and I just was not myself, Spring. See, I'm the guy that rolls with the punches, the one that doesn't let stuff bother him, the one that laughs in the face of adversity. I'm so glad that I'm beyond the mess that my life was in last year. Remember that post I did about Spring Cleaning? On the surface it seemed to be about getting rid of stuff I don't need anymore, but it was really about cleaning out my life of all the negative energy I felt was surrounding me. It took a minute, but like George Bush in a flight suit: Mission Accomplished! You didn't help much, luckily Summer had my back.

Even though I still have all the stuff I mentioned in that post, like the FUBU hoodie and jersey, more MP3's than I will ever get around to listening to and I've added to my old no longer used remote control drawer, the important things have changed. I've cleaned out my soul so to speak. I'm really good. You know how when you ask someone how they are doing, they always respond with "I'm fine" or "I'm good?" That's my reality right now. I am really amazed how much differently I feel now than I did last year. We need to keep this momentum going. Spring, no matter how much you and I argued last year, we have to put that behind us and work on the future.

The Real Rashan is back. Not that complaining, self loathing bitchassnigga you turned me into last year. This year, I'm a beast! Spring, I'm taking you by storm. (Speaking of storm, can I get a few days without rain or snow? Thanks.) This is my season. And for real, its not about going to the park, or cookouts with friends, and the emergence of the girls with the short shorts, although I thank you for all of those things. Spring, what I'm talking about is my piece of mind. I've not had anything to really complain about since last Summer, and I expect that you and I are gonna keep that streak going.

So Spring, let's make 2008 infinitely better than 2007 was. Nobody wants to see a return of last year's Rashan, especially me. Isn't it much better when I can just be the man that I want to be? None of those married women in my life, none of that being broke stuff, none of that retreating from everyone and everything I hold dear. My people need me and I need them. What better time to expand our relationship that with you, Spring! Let's get this thing rolling. You do your part, and I'll do mine and together we can be a force. You know no matter how dysfunctional our relationship was last year, Spring is a time to start anew. Just think about it, please?

Peace and Blessings,

Rashan Jamal

Confessions: Barbie Girl Pt 2

This is the last one, no part 3. LOL

Panic swirled in my head as I tried to piece together the previous evening’s events. I was never one to be sexually indiscriminate, so the sight of a naked white body next to mine confused me. Or perhaps it was the Canadian club that was messing with me. Either way, my first instinct was to jump out of the bed, even though I wasn’t sure that my legs could accomplish that goal. Wait a minute… I thought to myself. You are still fully dressed. Your jeans aren’t even unbuttoned. Ain’t no way you did anything lascivious last night. I can’t explain the feeling of relief that came over me. I felt like a man that had been given a reprieve from the electric chair. Not so much because she was white, but because if I couldn’t remember it, there’s no telling what kind of freaky deaky unprotected stuff could have happened. I could have a Halfrican American kid living out in Kansas. She could have had me burning like the Watts Riots. I could have caught a Kobe case (or whoever the 1999 equivalent was.) Anyway, the relieved feeling that I had didn’t last long because Barbie was still in my hotel room. I tried to find a way to get her the hell out.

Ay yo, wake up!
Huuuuh??
Yo, its morning. Why are you still here?
Huuuh?

I wasn’t getting anywhere. I wasn’t sleepy anymore and I didn’t want to just sit there while she slept, so I did what any panicked Black man in KCK would do. I got the f*ck outta dodge. That’s right. I left her in my room, while I drove off, still a little drunk from the previous night. I saw just about everything there was to see in KCK, then I drove to KCMO and explored. I did just about everything I could do to avoid going back to that room. 3 hours later, I returned to the hotel to find that Barbie was no longer there. There’s that feeling of relief again. I laid down in my bad and vowed once again to stop drinking…

The next week, my job sent my homeboy out to Kansas to help me train these newbies. It was perfect. Lorenzo was one of the coolest cats I knew, and I was no longer the token Black guy; I was one of two. LOL Lorenzo and I used to call ourselves “The Insurance Thugs” which I’ve been told is mad corny, but at the time was dope to me and everybody else. He was the type of cat to smoke a L in the van at work and then come back and be better than ever. He was quasi married to Angela, a crazy chick that nobody but him liked. Their personalities were as different as fire and ice, but they somehow managed to make it work. We rode out together everyday after work. Watching the basketball games (My beloved Knicks were in the NBA finals) and finding cool spots in KCMO where the Black people were. When the weekend came, our co workers again asked me to hang out with them. I was understandably nervous at the prospect. Lorenzo didn’t quite understand so I told him the story.

Dog, you lying.
I wish. It was crazy.
What about your girl? Did you tell her?
Nah, nothing happened. I’ll just keep that one to myself. But that’s why I ain’t rolling with them.

So, I didn’t. A few other co workers had a get together so we hit that one up instead. It was deep in the hood of KCMO, but I felt at home there. The next week was the same old stuff: Working, dodging invitations, hanging out with Lorenzo. At the end of the 3rd week it was time to go home. My newfound coworkers wouldn’t take no for an answer and planned an outing for our last day in the KCK. Lorenzo convinced me to go head and go so we got up with them. It was a fun filled evening. I can’t remember all of it, but I remember we went to a hood club with some black co workers, then to a dance club with the white, then even later we wound up at some strip club in the middle of a corn field with dancers that expected you to tip just because they walked by Then it was back to another club that reminded me of a rave. Crazy. I don’t remember what I was drinking (or more accurately, what I was NOT drinking), but I do remember that at some point in the night, Barbie showed up.

Hey, how come you didn’t call me?
I didn’t have your number.
You coulda asked “such and such*
Yeah, hey this is my homeboy Lorenzo.
How you doing?

He flashed me the look indicating that he knew that was Barbie. He mouthed “stay strong” at me as Barbie and I talked. I tried to blend into the crowd dancing with the one Black girl in the club. No, really, she was the only one. Barbie was hanging tough though, never really letting me out of her sight for two long and buying me drinks at every opportunity. Did I mention that I was an alcoholic back in the day? Anyway, the night ended at one of the co workers apartments. I remember we were listening to music and Lorenzo was rolling a J, but after that its all a blur….

The next morning Lorenzo and I met up in the hotel lobby. We had to check out and then drive back to the airport. We had the following conversation while sipping on the complimentary orange juice. It was confession time.

Yo, I was so drunk last night.
I know kid, me too.
Son, I think I did something bad. Yo, you remember Barbie?
Yeah?
I think…She came back to the room with me.
You hit that?
Man, I did.
What about your girl?
I know. I can’t believe I did that.
Man, I’m sorry.
Man, I don’t even know how I’m gonna look my wiz in her eyes when I get back
Just be strong, homey!
I’m gonna tell her. I have to!
Noooo, don’t do that, yo!
I feel so guilty, maybe she’ll understand
Noooo, my brother. Take this to the grave. I won’t say anything and you shouldn’t either. I got your back.
What if she asks what I did last night?
Tell her everything except that I boned a white girl. Leave that part out man.

There was more to the conversation, but you get the point. One brother messed up, the other brother looked out for him. This is my confession. I helped Lorenzo get away with cheating on his girl with Barbie. What, you thought the story was gonna be about me? LOL I crack myself up. Y’all were really getting mad at me, weren’t you?Thought Rashan X sold out!!! Well, I didn’t…at least not back in 1999. That’s a whole nother confession. LMAO!!!

Confessions: Barbie Girl pt 1

I tried to get it all in one post, but then somebody distracted me. Now you get 2 parts. I'll try to write it as quickly as possible, but well, you know, it is what it is. I already had one confession this week.

Memorial Day 1999 – Savannah Georgia

The air hung thickly in the Savannah , Georgia night. I was working… on a holiday no less. I lamented the numerous barbecues I missed out on as I toiled away for much less money than I was worth. I was acting manager, a position that came with the prestige of the title, but with none of the perks. I still wasn’t getting a salary, but at least I only had to talk to customers in escalated situations. It was dead that night. Nobody was calling in on a holiday, much less at 9 PM. I sat talking to my soon to be girlfriend and my current almost jump off about anything and nothing just trying to pass the time. I still remember what I was wearing: Red Fila shorts and a matching red and blue Fila shirt. I know I know, but it was 1999 and I was fresh. LOL Anyway, the night and the previous nights clubbing had my head swimming, so I stepped outside to smoke a black. I usually went in the back and watched the airplanes in the adjoining airstrip, but this night I decided to sit in my ride and listen to music. I planned on taking an extended break, perhaps even taking a nap in the front seat laid back. That’s when she walked up on me…

Mr. Wel.don, can I see you for a minute when you finish your smoke?

Man, what was she doing here? LQ was the head of the whole center, a short, military woman that brought that same tenacity to her job. At times it was comical, but I wouldn’t want to be on wrong end of her boot camp tactics. I was a little concerned when I saw her at 10 PM on a holiday, especially since I was slacking on n the job instead of watching the troops. I quickly extinguished my cigar and headed back in the building after a quick pit stop to wash the smell of tobacco off me. She was waiting in her office when I arrived.

Mr. We.ldon. Have a seat.

I obliged. Now, I figured that she was gonna say something about me deserting my post, as she often talked in military terms with her subordinates, but I wasn’t going to volunteer anything.

Did you enjoy your break?

Yes, Ma’am.

I wanted to talk to you about something.

Uh oh, here it comes. Really it wasn’t that serious, even managers are allowed to take a break, right?

Okay!

We have an opportunity to open up another center in Kansas . I would like for you to head out there and train them.

Wow, really?

You've been doing a great job for us and I think this could be a good thing for your career.

When would the training be?

Can you leave tomorrow?

Huh? Um, I guess I can. I mean, this is just coming a little out of nowhere. I’m definitely grateful for the opportunity.

We talked a while longer about the logistics. I would fly out from Savannah to Kansas City, Missouri (Henceforth KC MO) the following morning I would then drive from KC MO to Kansas City Kansas (Henceforth KC K) in a rental car provided by the company. They also got me an extended stay hotel and a company credit card for emergency expenses. I knew I wasn’t gonna use that. I would just pay my own way, and get reimbursed through per diem. I was ready to roll. When I got there I wasn’t quite prepared for what I would find there.

The majority of the staff were melanin challenged. The majority of everybody around me was melanin challenged. In fact in the city of KC K , it seemed like I was one of only a few African Americans around. No matter, I can work with and get along with anyone, but it was just strange to me. The people were mad hospitable offering to show me around, cracking jokes with me, and learning from what I was teaching. We all got along great. So when Friday night came and they asked me to join them for a night on the town, I gladly accepted. That’s where I met Barbie.

Barbie isn’t her real name, it was Katie or Ashleigh or Jillian; something that lets you know that there aren’t too many brothers in the blood line. She was a friend of one of the people I was hanging out with. She was literally a life sized Barbie doll, from the alabaster skin, to the golden yellow hair, which she annoyingly flipped every 8 seconds. (I timed it LOL) She had that classic Barbie thing going on, big up top, on the bottom not so much. Small waist, tig ol bitties that I think were fake. Her first words to me were: Do you play football?

Whatever, chick. Don’t try to gas me. Although I know I have broad shoulders, I’m about 4 inches to short to make an impact on the gridiron. But whatever, for some reason she was really into me. I thought of the words that James, one of the few Black employees, dropped on me when he heard I was hanging out with his white co workers. He said..

"Man, these white girls out here are a different breed. You don't even have to try and you gonna fall into some white p*ssy."

I laughed it off of course. I wasn't interested. I had a girl or two at home I was trying to get at, and they had one thing in common. They definitely were not white. Call em dark and darker. Anyway the white co workers took me to get drinks at River Walk in KC MO, I think its called. But even before we got there, they had me drinking Canadian Club, so I was pretty blitzed. Barbie was hanging on me all night as we bar hopped. There was a group of about 10 of us that went out that night, but inevitably Barbie would wind up sitting next to me at the table. She was mad touchy feely, always brushing up against me or rubbing her (no) booty on me on the dance floor. At some point of the night, she asked me where I was staying. I don't remember this, but apparently I told her the hotel was and my room number. It musta been the liquor talking for me.

Anyway, I got back to my room and slept off the alcohol. I spent that Saturday cleaning up a mess between the potential jump off and the soon to be girlfriend. Apparently I had to choose, but that's a different story for a different blog. That night I had no plans except some phone boning and possible getting something to eat. Around 7 o'clock, there was a knock on my door. I opened it up to find Barbie standing there with a 5 pack of Sam Adams and a pizza.

Room Service... she joked.

I wasn't really laughing but I let her in anyway. It would have been rude not to. We sat around and chatted for awhile until it started getting uncomfortable. . I then suggested that she call her friends (my coworkers) so we could go out. Some of them came to my hotel room armed with that damn Canadian Club whisky. We took shots, (racist statement time: Why does it seem like white people always have something to celebrate? And why must they celebrate with shots?) I can't remember how many I took, but I know after awhile I just wanted them to get the hell outta my room so I could fall asleep. They were still there when I succumbed to sleep. The next thing I remember was the morning. Every morning I was in Kansas, the people in the room next to mine would blast Bills Bills Bills by Destiny Child when they were getting ready for work. It woke me up every time, and this day was no exception. When my eyes actually opened, a feeling of panic overtook me. I looked over and saw Barbie laying next to me, covered by a sheet, but obviously butt ass naked. What the hell happened here last night???

Confessions: The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker

You asked for it. By an overwhelming margin, people wanted to hear the story of how I became a stalker. Well, how can I deny my blog fam? If you've ever read my blog, then you know I have a tendency to meet crazy people that don't like to go away no matter how much I tell them to. Well, one time I found myself doing something similar. Here goes nothing. The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker...


She stood silently, mouth slightly agape, her visage flickering in the candlelight. A slight hint of her hazel eyes flashed through her trademark squint. As she leaned in closer to me, I felt compelled to maneuver my hands under the edges of her shirt which fell an inch short of her waistline. Tenderly caressing the smooth skin of her back, I gently moved her a little closer to me. Our eyes locked first, followed closely by our lips. A first kiss to remember for a lifetime...



Wait a minute.. Let me not start in the middle, I should back it up a bit. I don't think anyone was reading my old blog when I first wrote about her. I made the mistake of using her real name (which I wont do this time), and rather than edit the post, I deleted it. Of course back then I wasn't willing to admit that I was in fact displaying stalking tendencies. To me it was a potential love story. Enough hemming and hawing, I guess I should tell the story.


I had known Renee since I was a senior in high school and she was a freshman. We lived around the corner from each other and rode the same bus to school each morning. We were friendly, I guess, but she was a little girl to me. Not that I was so grown up, as a 16 year old at the start of the school year, but she was 3 grades behind. Renee had a little bit of a crush on me, which I encouraged seeing as how I wasn't exactly beating the girls off of me in high school. But all in all, it was completely innocent. We would talk on the way to school and in Chorus class. Now that I think about it, she was my dance partner in one of our choral concerts. I remember how good she smelled. See, I'm talking like a stalker already and I haven't even gotten to that part of the story yet. Let's get out of high school and move on to college.


A couple of years went by and I was starting my second junior year at Savannah State University. I saw Renee standing in front of Payne Hall. I didn't really forget about her, because I passed her house everyday, but I wasn't thinking about her. College had been good to me. Apparently what passes for nerdiness in high school translates into a sort of intellectual coolness in college. As a result, I had loads of fun Freshman and Sophomore years. My first Junior year was all about Lisa, my first real serious girlfriend. So, no, I wasn't really thinking about Renee. Until I saw her that day. She was all grown up. No longer the little girl that used to follow me around school, she had transformed into a beauty.


I was attracted instantly to this older version of Renee. Physically, she was just gorgeous without making an effort. You know the type that can wear jeans and a t-shirt and throw their hair in a ponytail and still be dead fine? That was Renee. (Here is gonna be some extra crazy stalking stuff... but here's her picture. This is what she looks like now. If you know her, don't let her know that I used to stalk her. LOL) It was her beguiling smile and the way she would laugh like her life depended on it that drew me in. The fact that I had a girlfriend that I'd been with for a year, pulled me back. The reality was that as cool as she was, I wasn't the type to type to stray and who knows what Renee was thinking. So I kept it cool with her. Talking and flirting when we would see each other, but never pushing up on her. We stayed friendly throughout the rest of my college days, but of course I did my thing and she did hers so we didn't see each other that often.

Renee and my paths crossed again towards the end of 1997. It was a real interesting time in my life. I had met some eclectic people that joined my circle, one of which was Lesbian Roommate. By sheer coincidence, Renee and Lesbian Roommate were friends. So, Renee started hanging out with us at our place on 40th and Paulsen. I was girlfriend-less at the time for the first time in 3 years, and Renee was looking good to me. Even better than that, I loved the way her mind worked. It was often put on display during some of our all night hangout sessions. Those were crazy. My friends and I would light incense and candles, sit on the floor and talk about anything and everything for hours on end. Most nights, Lesbian Roommate and I would have people crashing at the spot, just because they fell asleep while talking about infinity or something faux deep like that. And for the most part, we weren't high or drunk. Just stimulating, intellectual conversations with friends. My favorite sessions were the ones that included Renee.

One night after all the rest of the crew had long since fallen asleep, Renee and I remained awake talking the night away. As she got up to leave, something, perhaps the candlelight, perhaps the Maxwell playing in the background, came over us. We kissed for the first time that night. You already read about that. Now I should tell you what happened next.

"You aren't ready for me, Rashan."

I remember that phrase like it was yesterday. I knew what she meant since we had talked about it during one of our marathon conversations. Truth be told, it had only been a few months since me and Lisa broke up, and I wasn't ready to jump into another relationship. And Renee was not the type that you give less than 100% to. She wasn't rebound girl, she was wifey material and she knew it. I was taken aback that she cut it off before it really even got started. I still remember the dimple on her left cheek as she smiled and kissed me goodbye that night. I thought if only this happened a little later, everything would be cool. Renee and I could be together if only the timing was right.

I know you are wondering when the stalking is gonna start and here it comes. This confession isn't easy to make, ya know! The rest of the week, my only thoughts were those of Renee. I laid awake at night daydreaming about her soft lips upon mine, the sweet smell at the nape of her neck, her baby smooth skin. I ain't gonna front, I had it bad. Any bad cliche you can think of, I was doing it. Staring at the picture that we took together at my Memorial Day BBQ - check. Listening to her voice on my answering machine - check. Writing horrendous poetry - check. I thought of strategies to win her over, to make her forget that I was just getting out of a relationship, to show her that I was ready to make her mine. I thought of ways to see her without making it seem creepy. But the manifestation of these desires was just that: creepy.

On several occasions, I went to see her at the mall where she worked part time under the guise that I was buying CDs. I would conveniently stop by when I knew she was working. She always greeted me kindly and had conversation with me, but there is no way that she didn't know that I was only there to see her. Ain't that much good music in the world. One afternoon, I actually sat in the parking lot until I saw her pull up and then walked up on her like it was a coincidence. I know, that's some stalker stuff right there. I also just happened to be riding through campus at the time when I knew she would be walking from the library to the student center. As a graduate, I had no business being on campus, but just the chance of seeing Renee was enough for me. At the time, I knew what I was doing, but somehow didn't realize that she could (probably) see right through me. To her credit, she never called me out on my stalkerish behavior, but she had to know. This went on for about 3 weeks.

One day it all hit the fan. I went to visit my grandmother, whose house I grew up in around the corner from Renee. As I was driving past Renee's house, I found myself looking in the driveway for her familiar car. Tres stalkeresque!!! All of a sudden it hit me. Rashan, you are losing your cool. You are on the verge of being a full out stalker. You hated when your stalker did that to you. What are you doing? Are you really gonna be one of those sucka-for-love-ass-tricks that you make fun of all the time? Get a grip, homey!

So, I did. It was like an epiphany. I turned off the creepy and got back to being Rashan. I found my rebound girl and although she turned out to be even creepier and stalkerish than I ever could conceive of, I realized that Renee was right. I wasn't ready for her. I needed time to not be serious. I needed to keep it light for awhile before I was ready to dive back into a relationship. Hell, I needed a damn intervention for all the crazy stuff I was doing.

I saw Renee again a couple of years ago. Like most refugees from Savannah, she's living in the Atlanta area. As we conversed at dinner I thought about the crazy things I did back then and said a silent prayer of thanks that I got my mind right. Renee is still the type of woman I'd like to end up with one day, but I'm glad that I know no matter how stimulating the conversation, or how attracted I am, there is no excuse for crazy stalkerish behavior. This was just my time to slip up, I guess.

And that my friends is the story of how the stalkee became the stalker. These are my confessions...

Pick Your Poison

So, I see I got the confessions popping off. I'm such a Svengali in the blog world. LOL But yo, my bad about yesterday. I kinda dipped out on the blog scene. No writing, no commenting. I had a killer migraine that lasted almost 24 hours. I know what usually does it to me... too much caffeine. Only I haven't had anything resembling caffeine in quite some time. I gave up coffee, and only have chocolate like once every 2 months (or whenever my sister makes brownies.) The other thing my neurologist said is a migraine trigger is nuts, although I don't believe him. That being said, I gave up peanut butter for awhile only to realize when I tried it again, that I am allergic to peanuts. How does that happen? I'm good for 32 years, and in my 33rd years, peanuts make me start wheezing and close up my airways. I don't know what that's about.

I said all that to say this. This lady I work with made some banana bread, and brought some without nuts especially for me. I ate a few bites at work and it was delicious. Thirty minutes later, my head is killing me. I can't hardly focus, and it was virtually impossible to keep my left eye open because of the pain. I toughed it out and finished my day, but when I got home I just fell out. No blogging, no responding to the interesting emails I received, no extraneous phone conversations. Just me, my pillow and my comforter over my head. Usually a hot shower and some sleep take care of the pain in my head, but I woke up this morning still feeling like boiled garbage, so much so that I immediately picked up the phone and told work that I was gonna be late. After a couple of hours the drugs kicked in, and I went to work, but it wasn't until about 7 o clock that I was feeling like my old self. I don't wanna blame the banana bread but...

Anyway, I owe y'all a confession. It was hard because I've admitted so much crazy stuff on the blog already. I told you about my knack for taking what's not mine, cheating on my college girlfriend with a girl that played me, about messing with married women, answered 50leven questions honestly from bloggers (I need to do that again. That was dope!) about love in the club with a mentally challenged chick, etc etc etc... (If you haven't read the stories, that last one sounds worse than it really is. LOL) It was hard to think of anything I haven't told you. I came up with some choices though. We gonna do this democratic style. No, that doesn't mean that we will damage our chances of winning the general election by smearing each other in the primary. I mean I'm gonna let you guys vote on which confession you want to read. Here are 7 choices. I'm gonna make the titles vague enough that you still want to read after the teaser.

1. Rashan X and the Barbie Girl: A Tale of Miscegenation

2. Rashan: The Stalkee Becomes The Stalker

3. Rashan's Adventures in Sexual Harassment

4. Rashan's Attempt to Give A Girl A Nervous Breakdown

5. Rashan Gets Cuckolded

6. Rashan Turns Down a Threesome

7. Rashan commits the 7 Deadly Sins

Post which confession you would most like to read in the comments and that will be Thursday's post, provided no one brings any more banana bread to work. LOL. I'll probably also write the rest of these confessions sometime later when I'm stuck for blog post ideas. And don't worry, Jameil, none of these stories will have anything too explicit in them. Aiight, then. Peace!

Making The Blog Part 6

I posted part 5 on Saturday. Some of you read it, but if you haven't check it out before you read part 6. Here are the links:

Click Here For: Part One, Two, Three, Four, and Five...

We gonna do something a little different this time. The assignment that I give in this part??? I want my MTB bloggers to actually do it in real life. I'll use that post to decide who I'm gonna cut next. That's right, actually write the post that I suggest below. Then I'll read them all and decide who keeps going. Sounds like fun, doesn't it? LOL

When we last left Making The Blog, Jizzy was mad disappointed in his bloggers. Jameil and Diva were about to tell them why...

Resume Scene: Riding on the Marta train.

Jameil: All of you violated the most basic rule of blogging today.

Diva: Yeah, what you did wrong was...

The bloggers are anxiously awaiting the information with nervous looks on their faces. Jizzy steps up.

Rashan: Hold up... don't tell 'em yet. Make these bloggers sweat it out for a minute. Y'all made some money today, huh?

Bloggers nod their heads.

Rashan: Put it in this bag. All of it. Don't count it, just put it in the bag.

Stace: You gon' take our money?

Rashan: Damn right! Don't worry, I'm not gonna keep it. But for real, give it up!

They pass the bag around and everyone puts in their money...

Rashan: Okay, ladies. Tell 'em what they did wrong.

Jameil: For real this time? You not gonna interrupt us again.

Diva: I know, right? All this suspense. This ain't one of your epic 3 part posts. Let us get to the point.

Rashan: Man, What's up with all this backtalk? Don't you know who I'm is? I'm Jizzy!

Diva: I know this much...Jizzy betta calm down before he get jacked up.

Jizzy holds his hands up as if to say, "My Bad".

Jameil: The reason we are so disappointed is that you actually begged people to read your stuff. I can...not... I have no words for how annoying that is.

Diva: Same thing in the blog world. Don't go to people's blogs asking them to read your blog. If they wanna read, they will read.

Rashan: Tell 'em about the emails, son!

Diva: Son? You do realize I'm a woman, right? But yeah, don't be sending people emails asking why they haven't visited your blog. Maybe they have been busy. Maybe they read but didn't have anything constructive to add.

Jameil: Maybe your blog just sucks. Maybe its just so wack, that they never want to abuse their eyes reading such garbage again in their lives.

Rashan: WORD LIFE!!! I'll read when I get ready. And if you ask me to read, then I will not read just out of spite. Blogging is a community. If you comment on my page, eventually I'll comment on your page. But don't try to rush me. Jizzy works on his own time. Jizzy plays by his own rules. Jizzy likes to drink, Jizzy likes to smoke, Jizzy likes to mix Arm and Hammer with his coke...

Epsilonicus: Isn't that a Young Jeezy lyric?

Rashan: My bad, I just got carried away. Do you all get the point, though? DO NOT DO THAT EVER AGAIN!!!

Magnolia: Didn't you tell us to do that?

Rashan: You just gonna blindly do what I tell you to do? You should know by now that this is all a game. You gotta be up on game if you wanna make the blog.

Confessional Cam:
La: Dammit, I knew it. I hate when people do that sh*t to me. Jizzy complained about people that do that on one of my posts. I shoulda followed my instincts.

Desy: I can't believe this idiot. He clearly told us what to do, and now he's mad about it. At the end of the day, he should be mad at himself.

Resume Scene:

Rashan: And now just to teach you all a lesson, I'm taking your money and we gonna make it rain.

Confessional:
The Goddess: Great... Jizzy's going to another strip club. Why doesn't he just find a real girl to deal with.

The train comes to a stop and the Jizzy and his captains lead the bloggers up the escalators onto the streets of Downtown Atlanta. The bloggers follow as Jizzy pimpwalks down the street. Fat Joe's "Make It Rain" plays in the background.

Rashan: Y'all ready to make it rain? You wanna see how Jizzy does it.

Tom_Gurl: Not particularly... no!

Rashan: It's gonna be legendary! You gonna enjoy this.

Diva: Umm. Are you sure about this? A lot of these ladies don't wanna see this.

Rashan: It's necessary. They need to know what Jizzy is all about.

Jameil: It's pretty sleazy down here though.

Rashan: It's cool, ladies. They gonna enjoy watching me make it rain.

Confessional:
Dejanae - When we got to the door, I was like "what kind of bootleg strip club is this?" It just didn't look right.

Monie: I couldn't believe that Jizzy was taking us here. It's real disrespectful to subject us to that.

Resume Scene: Jizzy opens the door and...

Confessional:
Cannon: Sh*t, this ain't no f*cking t*ttie bar... I thought we was gonna see some naked h*es!

Resume Scene: The camera reveals that it is a homeless shelter. Women and children are sitting around on cots. Homeless people are in line for food. Crystal Water's "She's Homeless" plays in the background.

Rashan: You thought I was gonna take y'all to a strip club, right? Jizzy is full of surprises. I'm gonna take all that money you earned today and donate it to the homeless.

Jameil: Its all about giving back. That's what we do in my sorority...SIGMA GAMMA RHO!!!

Diva: We just wanted you all to know that Making the Blog isn't all bright lights and glamour. It gets serious sometimes too.

Rashan: We are gonna help out here today. In addition to donating this nice chunk of change, I want you all to volunteer in anyway that they can use us.

Confessional:
Pocahontaz: Aww, Jizzy has a heart. I had no idea.

X Factor: This was right up my alley. I love volunteering for a good cause. You guys should check out my cancer walk on May 3rd. WRITERS NOTE: This is not blog advertising because its for a good cause. Much Props, Monique!

Resume Scene: The camera shows the bloggers interacting with the homeless, serving food and playing with children...Montage Style. "That's What Friends Are For" plays over the scene. Several bloggers are tearing up, including Jizzy. They leave the homeless shelter getting hugs from the kids.

Jameil: You crying, son?

Rashan: Nah. I mean, Jizzy don't cry.

Diva: Yeah, he crying! It's okay, some dudes are just sensitive.

Rashan: Nah, I got homeless dirt in my eyes. I'm not affected by this. I'm from the mean streets of Savannah, GA! Ain't no tears in the C-Port City!

Confessional:
Rashan: I can't front. It was just beautiful seeing all of us come together to help out. It's rough seeing kids in that shelter. You know Jizzy loves the kids!

New Scene: Back at the house. The bloggers are hanging out in the living room, lounging, drinking and chatting. Enter Jizzy again with Jameil and Diva.

Rashan: I hope everybody got something out of todays activity. I wanted to let you know that its okay to have a heart in your blog. I mean, sometimes we get so caught up in being funny, that we forget to show real life in our blogs. I'm guilty of it myself. I'm so sarcastic that people don't get to see the side of me that takes things seriously.

The bloggers nod their heads in agreement.

Rashan: That being said, we still got work to do. This is about making the blog, and now I need to see what you got. Are you ready for your next assignment? Diva, Jameil... I need you guys to do this one too.

Diva: But we are the captains...we aren't supposed to be actually working.

Jameil: I already post everyday. What more do you want from me?

Rashan: Chill... just hear me out! Todays assignment is gonna be a tough one. It's so hard that I'm going to give you all until the end of the week to complete it. I call this one...Confessions!

Usher's "Confessions Pt 2" plays.

Confessional Cam:
Epsilonicus: Confessions? As soon as I heard that, I had a pretty good idea where Jizzy was going with this one.

WRITERS NOTE: This is the part that I want you all to do in real life. It's like a tag, but not really. Anybody else who is not part of Making The Blog that wants to do it should feel free too. This should be fun.

Resume Scene:
Rashan: That's right: Confessions. I want you all to write a blog post detailing something that no one but the closest people know about you. It can be in any form you want. You can tell about a time when you did something you weren't particularly proud of. You can write about a crime you committed, or just some secret that no one knows. You can be as vague or as descriptive as you choose, but I need to be able to understand not only what you did, but the impact your actions had. Any questions?

Stace: So, basically... you just want to be nosy.

Rashan: Well, that is part of it, but I think it really makes for compelling blogging when people reveal themselves. I would never ask you to use real names, although if you want to that's fine. I only ask that you not be too cryptic, and keep it real with the blog world.

La: What about you? You are asking us to bare our souls... will you do the same?

Rashan: Hey, now! I'm making this blog. I don't do homework. I never did it in school and I'm not about to start now.

Jameil: It's only right that you share with us too.

Bloggers all chant in unison: Do it, too! Do it, too!

Jizzy starts sweating and wipes his forehead with a white towel. The chanting continues...

Bloggers: Do it, too! Do it, too!

Rashan: Aiight, Aiight! I'm in. You'll get my confession later this week.

Diva: This should be good. You should tell that story you told me the other day.

Rashan: Nah, can't tell that one. But I'll come up with something. Remember, this assignment is due by Friday. If you don't do it, it's pretty much guaranteed that you will not be making the blog.

Confessional:
Rashan: What have I started here? This should be mad interesting. I can't wait to read what people come up with. I'm gonna get out of here and think about my confession. Until the next episode of Making The Blog, I wanna say: PEACE! AUDI 5000!

Closing Credits.

Making The Blog Pt. 5

I tried to recreate what I wrote the other day. It may not be as funny cuz I'm wide awake now as opposed to Thursday night when I was high off of benadryl. Anyway, here is Making The Blog, part 5...

Click Here For: Part One, Two, Three and Four...


Last we saw- Rashan was about to unleash his master plan that would essentially weed out the weakest members of the teams.

New Scene:
Rashan walks in decked out in his vintage yellow fubu hoodie adorned by his Armani blazer lookin extra fresh. He stops in front of the camera, removes his Gucci shades and just smiles at the ladies. Jameil walks around him shaking her head and Diva follows mushing Rashan in the head.

Diva: Come on bighead. Nobody wanna see all dat. And I don't have all day to wait for this. Can you get to it please?

Rashan gives the side eye and regains his swag.

Diva: What I tell you about men giving the side eye, Jizzy? That was mad soft.

Rashan: Alright bloggers, it's time to truly test your dedication to this competition. If you thought it was hard before, you haven't seen nothing yet.


Confessional Cam
Tom_Gurl: The suspense was killing me. I wish Jizzy would just come out with it.

Resume Scene:
Rashan: So in true MTB fashion we are gonna split these teams up even further and see what you are made of. Y'all know I'm obsessed with the Utterz joint, right? Now we gonna get to hear what all of you sound like. I want you to do a voice post for me... but there's a twist.

Bloggers look around at each other wondering what Jizzy has in store

Confessional Cam:
Pocahontaz: For real, all this waiting is driving me crazy, just tell us what we have to do.

Rashan: The next challenge is gonna require some real stamina. Do you guys think you have what it takes complete what I have in store?

Jameil: Can we stop all this suspense building and just cut to the chase please?

Rashan: Fine. This isn't gonna be just for me. Each team is gonna have to stand and recite their posts at the Five Points Marta station. Your goal is to collect money so that you can hike yo' ass up to Subway and get me a Tuna Footlong Sub- no combo necessary. To make it into a real challenge, you'll need to recite your posts while holding your laptops. Any questions?

Silence

Confessional Cam
Monie: This is the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. I hate those voice posts. Most people read at work and can't even hear the damn things. But I'll do it, I guess.

Resume Scene:
Rashan: Alright then. I forgot to tell you the best part... Y'all going head to head in this joint. Straight competition style. Diva, let these cats know who they will be facing.

Diva: It's gonna go down like this:

Caesar vs. La
The Goddess vs. Monie
Magnolia vs. X Factor
Tom Gurl vs. Epsilonicus
Desy vs. Pocahontaz
Dejanae vs. Stace

Jameil: Everybody get to work. The funnier your voice post is, the more money you can collect for Jizzy's Tuna Sub fund.

New Scene: 5 points train Station - Downtown Atlanta
The camera shows passengers waiting for their train. A few are listening to iPods. A couple are reading books. Guys in baggy jeans are trying to chat up girls in hotel uniforms. Trains whiz by.

Jameil: Okay, guys we are here. You'll have 3 hours to recite your posts for as many people as possible. Remember..Jizzy is always watching.

Diva: No, really. He's watching. He told me a story about how he likes to watch. It disgusted me. Pervert!!!

Confessional Cam:
Rashan: I'm saying... I like to watch. How does that make me a perv? I'm a visual creature...

Resume Scene:
The bloggers are grouped in pairs approaching people in the train station trying to read their blogs to them. Caesar approaches a lady in a business suit. Her face is blurred because she wouldn't sign the release to use her image.

Caesar: Excuse me, lady. Can I have a minute of your time?
Lady: I got to go.
Caesar: I'm saying, you waiting for the train. It ain't here yet. Lemme read you something.
Lady: Leave me alone.

Confessional:
Caesar: That f*ckin lady was a racist. She sees a young Black man and immediately thought I was gonna rob her. She coulda listened for a minute.

Resume Scene: La is sitting on a bench in front of the Northbound train. 2 young guys walk up to her.

1st guy: Hey, shawty. What yo name is?
La: I'm La!
2nd guy: What you doing sitting over here by yourself. You want some company?
La: Sure, come on.

Confessional:
La: Normally, I would never talk to these clowns, but I need to read my post to as many people as possible, so I'll put up with them.

Resume Scene: La is faux flirting and reading the blog to the guys. They leave and she holds up a $20 bill at the camera.

Confessional:
La: (laughing) Guys are so easy... I didn't even have to ask for it.

Resume Scene: Dejanae and Stace are on the eastbound train platform. Dejanae approaches a tall brotha with locs.

Dejanae: I'm a read you some poetry, man...
Loc Brotha: Cool, my sister.

Camera shows her reading her blog. The brother is enthralled.

Loc Brotha: My sista, that was enlightening. Let me bless you with one of my pieces.
Dejanae: Nah, that's okay. I gotta go now.
Loc Brotha: My Black Queen...Deep as the Euphrates...Hot as the Serengeti....

Confessional
Stace: God, I hate this wack poetry jam. I can't believe people are really into this. But I know what I have to do...

Resume Scene:
Stace: (poetically) Dreaming of a Black Prince/to penetrate my defense/it may not be common sense/but the Black love is immense...

A crowd starts forming around Stace, Dejanae and the loc brotha... They nod their heads to Stace's mock poem. People start putting dollars in hat.

Confessional:
Dejanae: I can't believe they were falling for that bootleg poetry. That sh*t wasn't even real.

Stace: People are like my kindergarten class. I talked to them like they were kids and they ate it up. Did I mention I hate wack poetry? But it worked for me.

Resume Scene: A montage of all the other bloggers approaching passengers, some successfully, others with no luck. Jay-Z's "Excuse Me, Miss" plays in the background. (Get it, cuz they are talking to strangers. LOL) As the song ends, Jizzy walks in the train station flanked by his entourage...

Rashan: Ay, yo! Time's up, bloggers. Everybody gather around...

Confessional:
Desy: I know I made a lot of money out here. I just don't know if I got more than Pocahontaz. She was talking to everyone about all the latest celebrity gossip. People love gossip.

Resume Scene: Everybody hops on a train. The doors close and the camera shows all the bloggers sitting down. R. Jizzy is standing up in the center of the train.

Rashan: I rented out this train so I could talk to y'all about today's assignment. Today, you had to read your blogs to anybody that would listen and collect money for it. How'd y'all do?

X Factor: I did pretty good. People are surprisingly generous.

Rashan: So, you think you can blog for money?

X Factor: I don't know about that, but it was nice.

Rashan: Right, Right! I hear that. But for real... I'm mad disappointed in all of you though...

Bloggers look confused.

Epsilonicus: What'd we do wrong? We just did what you told us to do.

Rashan: Y'all really don't know what you did wrong? You just gonna sit here and act like you don't know. That's what's hot in the streets? Yo, Jam! Yo, Diva!

Jameil: Wassup, Jizzy!

Diva: Don't "yo" me!

Rashan: My bad... Ladies, you wanna tell them what they did wrong today?

Confessional:
The Goddess: I can't even imagine what they are gonna say? All I know is that I did my assignment correctly.

Magnolia Peach: Here comes Jizzy and his mind games. I wish he would just say what he means for once...

Resume Scene:
Jameil: I sure will... All of you violated the most basic rule of blogging today.

Diva: Yeah, what you did wrong was...

Cut to commercial...

Blogger Ate My Post...Now What?

Mobile post sent by Rashan Jamal using Utterz. Replies. mp3

For all of you utterz challenged folks... Blogger ate my post. I wrote Part 5 of Making The Blog last night, went to publish it and then got a crazy error message. I went back to my drafts to republish it and that joint was nowhere to be found. I'm about to hop on the leaving Blogger bandwagon. It's always down when I go to lunch at work, the only time I really can read and comment during the day. That's why you always see me commenting in the wee hours of the morning. I get home and wind down and then I comment. Since my real post is gone, I'm just typing on the fly in hopes that I can come up with something interesting to write about. I don't have the energy to recreate the madness that went into Making The Blog right now. Oooh, here's something interesting...

How many bloggers phone number's do you have? How many have yours? Do you talk to them outside of the blog world on a (semi) regular basis? How do you know when its okay to talk offline? Is there a blogger that you think it would be cool to talk to, but dont want to initiate it because they might get the wrong idea? Do you just keep the blog world and real world completely separate? Let me be the first to answer those questions...

I currently have 3 bloggers phone numbers. One I talk to regularly, the other I talk to from time to time, and the other I've only talked to once or twice. These are the current bloggers I mess with it. If we go back to the old blog when I was Mr. Popularity, I think it would have been another 7 or 8. Since they don't like me anymore, I don't know if they still have my number and I know I have deleted quite a few numbers from my phone. I've had the same phone number for damn near 8 years, so they can still reach me if they want to. As far as how I knew it was okay to talk to them offline, it varied. One just didn't strike me as the crazy type, so I knew it would be okay. I had to tell her a story that couldn't fully be encapsulated in an email, so I called and gave her the details. The other, I was a little nervous about when I gave her my number because I didn't know what to expect. It turned out to be cool though. There is a blogger that I think I could be friends with, but I haven't exchanged phone numbers with her because I don't want her to think I'm trying to holla at her and start giving me the side eye. LOL As far as keeping the two worlds separate, I did that for the last year, but now I'm cool with sharing the real me with my blog family again.

What do you know? I somehow managed to make a real post out of nothing, but this doesn't work unless I get feedback from you. Go head and answer them questions for me and satiate my unnatural nosiness curiosity. If you are braver than me, go ahead and name names too. Check back on Saturday for Part 5 of MTB. Peace!

Fellas, Don't Do This Stuff Anymore, Yo!

And this is coming from the same dude that admitted earlier today that he used to watch Felicity and that he has a Febreze scented oil warmer that smells like cookies... For real, my man, don't do this stuff, yo! It makes you look suspect. All drawn from real life experiences. I don't expect you to agree with all of them. This is a Rashan moment.

Don't ride around in your whip, leaned back in the seat, pimpin playing female empowerment songs. It's not cool to have Chrissette Michelle pumping out your Blaupunkt. You can't look manly doing the "pat yo weave, ladies" dance in your whip. I like Anita Baker too. But "Body and Soul" bumpin from your ride? Might wanna check that.

Don't use Victoria Secret's lotion in public. I don't care how much you like the vanilla joints, its not made for a man. Nothing against you getting your moisturizer on, but when you pull out the Vicky from your man purse, you look a little suspect.

Don't talk about your manicure. No, scratch that... Don't talk about your manicurist... in glowing terms. I'm not hating on you taking care of your hands. I probably should get that done too. But for real, being on a first name basis with her and saying "I don't let no one else touch these nails" is taking it a little too far. Again, get your manicure, I don't care, but for real don't call your manicurist "my nail girl."

Don't be dancing around with your homeboys. All up in the club doing choreographed steps and shit. Shaking your dreads in a synchronized fashion. Not dancing with any of the girls in the spot, but popping, locking and dropping at the same time as your boys. Cut that stuff out, yo! The only time you should be doing the exact same step as your homeboy is if you got on matching outfits and are performing ON STAGE. Not the dance floor, ON STAGE with thousands of teenyboppers screaming the name of your R&B group. The only excuse for male choreography is if you A. in a boy band or B) trying to start a boy band or C) in a dance competetion presented by Randy Jackson. or D) in the sequel to You Got Served. (speaking of which, anyone else find that You Got Served episode of South Park utterly hilarious?)

Dont use the phrase "no homo." Where the hell did this come from? I first saw it on the internet, but now people in real life are saying this mess too. Is it really that deep that you can't give another man props without saying "no homo?" Do you really think that saying that makes us think you are not gay, or if you forgot to say it, we would think you are? Example. I like Jay-Z (no homo.) Just crazy to me. Nobody was even thinking you were gay until you decided to clarify stuff.

That's all I got. I'm going back to sleep now. What you think men shouldn't do?

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Whenever I tell people about the relationship I have with my brother and sister, they think we are nuts. See, we subscribe to a very simple philosophy: Don't Ask, Don't Tell. No, this isn't some Clintonian gays in the military policy, but really a way of life for us. If you don't ask, I won't tell. It's a simple way to avoid the family drama. You know those families where everybody has an opinion about every choice people make, that is so not us. We never have to worry about being in each other's business. It doesn't work for everyone, but it works for us. For example, I don't know whether my sister is dating the guy that visits her or if they are just friends. She doesn't know if my latest stay on the phone at all times partner is a girlfriend. She didn't even ask any questions when she met PHD. We like it like that. It's not about being secretive, but more allowing each other to live our lives sans interference. It makes stuff easy for us. A few years ago, however, don't ask, don't tell went wrong for me.

It was the summer of '05 and our cousin, Trevor was getting married. He's not a real cousin, but we all grew up together in Spring Valley, New York. His mom and my mom are best friends, and my moms is his Godmother. Technically, he is my god brother, but our families were much closer than we were to our blood cousins. Anyway, the wedding was in Dallas, and my brother, sister and I planned to make the drive out there. Far as I knew, it was just the 3 of us and my sister's 2 kids. Until they showed up at my crib to pick me up. This dude (now my sister's baby daddy) was with them. I was a little taken aback. Nobody mentioned anything about taking dates. I didn't ask. She didn't tell.

We piled in the van and went to pick up my brother. When we got to his crib, he was there with his girlfriend (now wife.) I was wondering why she was there, but it didn't strike me until they started loading their bags in the rental van. Oh, she's coming too? Word? Why ain't nobody tell me? My sister has a date, my brother has a date. Me? Solo. Damn don't ask, don't tell policy. I didn't even know that they were dating anyone, much less seriously enough to take a 10 hour road trip with. Did I mention that I had never met either of them before? It made for a wack van ride. I sat there listening to my cds the entire trip, while they shared banter with their significant others. It sucked... When we finally made it to Dallas, I just chilled in my room for the first night there. I don't know what everybody else was up to, but I was stuck there with no car and no desire to play 3rd or 5th wheel. I felt like somebody should have at least given me the opportunity to bring a date. I actually had someone that wanted to come with me, but I rebuffed her since I thought it was a family trip. That's what I get for thinking, I guess.

The second day, I hooked up with my cousins and their friends and managed to salvage some fun out of the trip. The bachelor party was hot. My brother didn't come through, I guess cuz he was with his woman, and my sister's friend wasn't there, which was actually cool because I didn't have to temper my strip club persona. That was the most money I ever spent in a strip club, but most of it was for my cousin. Our plan was to keep 2 girls in his lap at all times. Between me, his brother, and his homeboys... Mission accomplished. And the talkative stripper from South Africa that was hanging out with me all night... nah, I better not tell that story. LOL. See, more don't ask, don't tell stuff.

The third day had me back to the feeling left out thing. Just about everybody was hooked up at the wedding reception besides me. I probably coulda tried harder with the bridesmaids, (or invited the South African stripper) but the gold teeth and tattoos weren't doing it for me. Not to mention that they all went outside to smoke a blunt at the reception. My moms was there, I couldn't really bring myself to try to chase a weed smoking hoodrat in front of her. It woulda been really cool if I had a girl with me though. Don't ask, don't tell ruined that.

You may ask did we change after that? Not so much. We are still on that don't ask, don't tell stuff. But I know next time we take a trip, I'll have to cast aside my not wanting to know, and ask them straight up if this is siblings thing or a couple thing. I don't want no more surprises like that.

EDIT: PEOPLE WANNA KNOW ABOUT THE SOUTH AFRICAN STRIPPER SO HERE GOES.

We were at this club in Dallas. It was a multicultural thing. Black, White, Latina all kind of girls in there. All night I was pulling strippers to go dance for my cousin since it was his bachelor party. His brother was taking care of him for a minute, so I decided to sit down and get myself a dance. There was this one that had caught my eye, so I gathered up my loot and got my dance. When the song (or maybe it was 2 or 3 songs later LOL) was over, she didn't leave. I thought she was trying to hit me up for more money, but she wasn't. She was like do you mind if I just sit here for a minute. Here was on my lap, so of course I didn't mind. She started talking to me. Normally, I don't really go for stripper talk; I look at it as a business transaction. I pay you, then you leave. Besides, most strippers are usually drunk or high, and I get enough crazy conversations in real life that I don't need it in the club. This one was different. I could tell from her eyes that she wasn't intoxicated, but she certainly was intoxicating. I didn't really look at her face while she was dancing, but she was beautiful.

Her name was Amaya or Imaya or something like that. Even though she wasn't drunk, I was. I can't remember. I found out that she was from South Africa, had been in Dallas for about a year and was going to school for nursing. I know what you are thinking because I was thinking it too. The stripper working her way through college is a myth, but it actually was true. I know because at some point of our conversation, she decided that she wanted me to see pictures of her family. Amaya went to the back and got her wallet, showed me her family pictures as well as her school id. It was weird. Like I said, I usually tune out any stripper talk, since its inherently disingenous and designed to gas up heads, but we actually clicked for a minute. She even bought me a dance from one of her homegirls. When we were getting ready to leave, she told me to call her before I left town so she could show me the city.

Now, I didn't call for a couple of reasons. She had to work Saturday night, and I was going to be at the wedding reception. I was leaving on Sunday anyway. But more importantly, although I'm fairly secure in my stuff, I don't think I could handle being in a situation where other dudes are seeing my girl naked. Sorry, just doesnt work for me. Hypocritical, based on my love of strip clubs, I know, but it is what it is. She did call me once when she was in Atlanta for a weekend, but we could never hook up. Oh well, it just wasn't meant to be.

Now you know the story of Rashan and the South African stripper. She was cool people.