Rainy Dayz

On rainy dayz I sit back and count ways
On how to get rich son,
show and prove, ask my b***h
Stood up late nights, build with my a-likes
We can pull a heist, snatch ice, or rock mics


Ghostface on Raekwon’s “Rainy Dayz” ( I think some of those lyrics may be a little off, but I don’t have time to research)
It’s another rainy day in GA. These days especially I don’t feel like going to work. I need me a side hustle. This rainy day has me brainstorming. What could I do to get rich?

I can ghostwrite for wack rappers. I used to be a rapper, but I can’t really do it anymore. The words don’t flow like they used to. When I freestyle I find myself repeating myself and coming up with words that ALMOST rhyme. That would be perfect for some of these southern rappers. I can be overly simplistic and use buzzwords like sway, candy paint, and whatever liquor is popular in the clubs. I can reference other wack rap songs in my own wack rap song. I should get on this one.

I can be a critic. Doesn’t matter what I’m criticizing: movies, music, restaurants, your face. If there’s one thing I can do it’s criticize. I have mad opinions about everything. I usually keep them to myself or the people close to me,b but if you paying, I’ll make you feel bad for a fee.

I can be a writer for SNL. I’m pretty funny and I don’t know how to end a sketch (or movie, or novel) either.

I can wait in lines for people. I’m a really good waiter. I’m patient and don’t get easily frustrated. You know how people start getting antsy after a while? That doesn’t really bother me. As long as I have an iPod, I’ll hold your place in the line at the DMV, the polling place, concert. There has to be a market for that, right?

I can be a “prove-wronger.” I love that ish. I get all cocky and belligerent! I’ll make that other person feel really small as I prove them wrong. You having an argument with someone that doesn’t use logic? You need someone to do your research, I will be relentless. And I don’t just use the first website that agrees with me. I need legitimate sources. I’m not gonna cite Sandra Rose, or TMZ, or Fox News. I’ll get credible sources. I don’t stop til I prove you were wrong and I was right.. even if I wasn’t.

I can be a food taster. I generally have a cast iron stomach. I can eat anything without getting sick. Bring on your crazy concoction and I’ll let you know what’s wrong with it or what’s right about it. Just don’t include any cantaloupe and we’re good.
I can be a blogger. I’m saying, other bloggers got paypal links on their pages. Why can’t I? Because blogging is free? That’s no excuse. I want to exploit people into paying for free stuff too!!!

Things I Learned This Weekend In Gainesville.

Things I learned this weekend

5 hours is entirely too long to ride without consistent radio, ipod, book on tape, something.. So, when it raided real hard last month, my antenna broke off leaving me with only a few strong radio stations. That was really no problem, because it also made my iPod adapter work even better. Earlier in the week, I brought the iPod in the house to upload my new music, but ummm errrr… now I can’t find it. I checked the couches, the bed, the junk pile. I really hope I didn’t accidentally throw it away. As a result, for most of my trip to Florida I was relegated to listening to Country, classic rock or contemporary Christian music. Not exactly my cup of tea. I loved it when the NPR signal was strong, but that was only for about an hour. I almost drove myself crazy without a proper distraction.

I wasn’t ready for Jameil’s neighbors. She told me about the Christmas lights, but I still wasn’t prepared for that IN OCTOBER!!! I mean, Halloween isn’t even here yet. I love Christmas as much as the next man, but we got a couple more holidays first… (Halloween, Thanksgiving, My Birthday –LOL) And then the neighbor that was vacuuming her apartment for an hour on Sunday, an apparently 30 minutes on Saturday. It was really weird. I was wondering if Jamel lived under Monk’s apartment with that level of OCD. I also wasn’t ready for the couple that was watching me struggle trying to get the couch out the back seat of Jameil’s car. I didn’t want them to help, but I also didn’t want them to sit there and mock me with their eyes.

The Alachua county fair is really bootleg. But it was still fun. Jameil begged me to buy her some chocolate covered bacon. It was okay. I only had a lil piece b/c chocolate gives me headaches, but Jameil devoured that h.. (I think you can tell what I was going to type, but then I imagined the google searches that would lead to my blog. LOL) There was no one there, so most of the rides, we were the only people on them. And they went on forever and ever. The last ride we had to tell the guy that that was enough. I was amused that in addition to the normal haggard looking carnies, they also had ticket takers that didn’t speak English. I guess affirmative action has hit the fair circuit. LOL
Mexico Lindo is really the same restaurant as Los Margaritos. The only difference is the hokey interior design. The food was good, but I was hoping for something different from a new Mexican restaurant. I guess that since they are owned by the same people, they have the same menu and cooks. And why did they have the smallest TVs known to man. I think them joints were 13 inches. It reminded me of what my homeboy used to have in his dorm room. Do you know how hard it is to play playstation on a 13 inch tv? Wait, that wasn’t what I was talking about. Let’s move on…

I’m not a fan of tequila anymore. Which is really weird because I love margaritas. I just don’t love homemade margaritas. There was something too strong about the Jose I was sipping on this weekend. Really disappointing..

Okay, my phone won’t stop ringing, so I’m going to stop posting now. And yes, I’m fully aware that I am supposed to do work at work, but it doesn’t stop me from being frustrated when I actually have to..

The Fourth Time

The first time I was minding my business pumping gas at an Enmark in Savannah. The second I was at a club that I knew I shouldn’t have been frequenting. The third time, my homeboys pissed off a pot dealer.. Each time I felt anxiety, adrenaline, and angst. The fourth time was a little different…

Last night after I got off work, I realized that I needed some air in my tires. The car was shaking a little bit the way it does when one of the tires isn’t properly inflated. I pulled off on exit 261, which I am very familiar with since I used to live out in Marietta for 6 or 7 years. There’s a BP on the corner of Terrell Mill and Powers Ferry that doesn’t charge for air, unlike most of the gas stations in the area. I pulled up, pulled the cord and proceeded to put air in my tires. As I was at the rear driver side, I heard a little rustle over my shoulder. I looked back and saw a black hoodie and black jeans. Before I could react I heard…

“Give it up big nigga.. Don’t look at me…”

And so I did.. and I didn’t. Well, I did sneak a peak, but the gun that he was holding snapped me back in place. I reached in my pocket, slid the money out of my wallet and held it over my left shoulder. And then he bolted. I probably should have looked to see which way he ran, but my brain didn’t think to do that. Maybe I could have stolen a glance at his face, but I didn’t do that either. I just got in the car.. and sat there for like 5 minutes composing myself..

The thing about it, is that I didn’t really need to compose myself. I wasn’t hysterical. I wasn’t anxious. I wasn’t even really scared. I felt like I should be scared, but all I was was calm.. Like eerily calm. Like just smoked a dutch master calm. Like Nyquil after 2 hours calm. Like chilling on the beach calm. I thought that once I went home and thought about it, it would hit me. I thought that I would dream about that gun held sideways like in a hood movie. I thought that it would affect me in some way. It didn’t. I slept like a baby after fighting it for a little while. I woke up refreshed and glad to be alive, but not like I dodged a bullet. It is what it is.

The fourth time was different. I’ve had 3 previous run ins with guns. It’s almost like it’s just a part of life. Me and guns don’t get along, but I’m not stressing it this time. I’m still here. I can’t worry about what didn’t happen, just thank the Lord that it didn’t. Still, I just wish I felt something about it. This numbness seems inappropriate.

An Open Letter To Maxwell

I'm biting off Pserendipity's style today...


Hey, Maxwell. Enough already. I get it.. You can sing. You make classic soul music. You make the ladies swoon. But for real, can you go away again?

I know that you got 2 more albums coming out in the next year. I’ll probably illegally download them too. The first one is pretty good, even if its mad short. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m tired of seeing you, hearing you, and hearing about you. Can you please release the hypnotic hold you have on the ladies of America (maybe it’s the same overseas too. I can see you doing a show in Sierra Leonne or something)? Every time you show comes to town, I have to hear the ladies give all the details about the show. Or every time I log into Facebook, I have to see blurry camera phone pictures of your concert or a 3 week countdown to your show. I really don’t need to hear about your tight pants again ever in my life. Or how women don’t like light skinned men, but they’ll make an exception for you. Or how much, where and in what ways you could get it. For real, enough already.
I know it’s not your fault. You can’t help being the way you are and I don’t want to ruin your career, but can you just maybe go tour Europe for awhile. Get some of them euros or something. Give me and the rest of the brothers in the states a break from the constant Maxwell worshiping. I’d like to be able to go an hour or two without hearing “Pretty Wings” or “Bad Habit” from a co worker’s computer. I promise, I’m not jealous. I have a woman, so that’s not the issue. I’m just a little tired of you, and that can quickly turn into irritation, which can quickly turn into despising, which can quickly turn into me showing up to your concert with a sniper’s rif… Maybe, I shouldn’t type that last sentence. But for real, Maxwell… enough already.

Thanks in advance,

Rashan Jamal

Thursday Thirteen: Holding My Tongue At Work

I usually get my point across without saying the bluntest things that are on my mind. But sometimes, I want to let loose. It probably wouldn't be a good idea to say the following thoughts that popped in my head this week at work. Here are 13 things I wanted to say, but thought better of...

1. Are you really qualified to make broad general statements about female traits and male traits? I mean, you are the only female in here that dresses like a boy.


2. Can you go ahead and turn that down? I don’t really want to “Get With Your Pimpin’” at work.

3. You know Facebook is free, right? No need for you to be all up in mine.

4. Your hair is the same color as that carpet my Grandmother had in her house back in 1979.

5. Maybe you could sound it out… That’s how Fantasia learned to read.

6. You might be a little too young to be getting that surgery done. Try a lil exercise or at the very least not eating every hour.

7. “How you doing?” does not mean you should tell me how you are doing. It means hi. In the future, I’ll be more succinct with my greeting.

8. I’m not going to do what you tell me to do because you tell me to…Wait, I actually said this one.

9. Don’t get mad, but I broke your code. I know you talking about that Kush. Making drug deals at work is one thing, but could you at least go outside where you can get a little privacy?

10. No, I wasn’t really sick. I just wanted to hang out with my girlfriend. Is that a problem?

11. Don’t ask me to answer any more of your questions, cuz you don’t listen. I’m obviously smarter than you, so you need to defer to my dominant intelligence.

12. The reason people keep calling back is because you sound like you don’t know what you are talking about. Oh yeah, and you are mean for no reason, and act like doing your job is irritating you.

13. Ain’t you a little old to be going to the BET Hip Hop Awards. For real, bruh how old are you? Are you 50? 55? You look old as dirt. You know that saying black don’t crack? That don’t apply to you. I refuse to believe me and you are the same age, when you look like you could be my daddy.

The Bachelorette Party

Yesterday at work we had phone and computer issues that basically meant that we did nothing for about 5 hours. So, after reading blogs and facebook playing around for a couple hours, I finally broke down and joined the conversation that my co workers were having. A little background: One of my lesbian co workers is "getting married" soon, and they decided to throw her a bachelorette party.  I think everyone was a little confused as to what you do when 2 members of the same sex get married, so it really was just game night with people drinking and playing Taboo and Family Feud. Anyway, I was invited, but I politely declined as I was supposed to be going to Florida this past weekend. Jameil came to me instead, but still I wasn't trying to subject her to craziness that is my co-workers. As I heard the details of said party, it seems like I made the right decision.

First, the bride (or groom) got lost and wound up like 3 cities away. She was using her GPS on the phone and the host's address wasn't registering. So, she kept driving. The party was in Marietta, and the bride instead of calling for directions, just kept going. Next thing you know she was in Acworth. ( I know this wont mean anything to people unfamiliar with Atlanta suburbs, but suffice to say, she was way out of where she was supposed to be.) Even when people called her and offered directions or to come pick her up, she just refused. 3 hours later, she finally broke down and let somebody meet her at the job and followed them to the party. Apparently by the time she got there, she was manic and ready to go and had to be talked down to even come inside.

Then there's the co-worker who is apparently engaged to a midget. Well, not quite a midget, but not quite a regular short guy. He was so short that she felt the need to issue a warning so people wouldn't stare. While he told the girl that he is 5'1", everybody who's seen him says that's a lie. They say more like 4'6", 4'7". Anyway, he was there. They say he is the nicest person you'll ever meet, but just short. And apparently not very attractive. And might look like that guy Beetlejuice from the Howard Stern show.  One of the bride's friends said he looked like that stack of money with the googly eyes from the Geico commercials. Oh, and apparently he passed out drunk after 2 drinks, which led to more jokes about his size and blood alcohol content. They didn't have a picture, but even if they did, I don't think I would have looked, what with my irrational midget phobia.

Let's move on to the games. Drunk board games are hilarious and fun to me. But apparently people were yelling and screaming and about to fight over some Family Feud. That would have annoyed me so I'm glad I stayed home. I have a really low tolerance for messy situations. I'm extremely competitive when it comes to games, but it's supposed to be fun. Not to mention, I would have been drinking, so there's no telling what I would have said to them. Would have had a bunch of hurt feelings. I'll let them keep thinking I'm a lovable jerk, not a mean one. So, yeah, I'm glad I didn't go to the bachelorette party. I think it was best for all involved that I sat that one out. Shoot, they didn't have no strippers. LOL

Mindspacing: The Sequel

10 more random thoughts in the style of Jameil.

1. I wish my TV had a v chip that blocked all content that mentions Brett Favre. I really hate how every word he says is reported as fact, when it's subject to change in the next 43 minutes. I'm retired, I'm unretired. I'm not playing for revenge. I want revenge. That and the announcers knob slobbery of him makes me ill.

2. It wasn't too long ago that I would watch every football game that came on TV - college and pro. Now, a game or two is enough for me. After the Falcons play, I'm good.

3. I wish they would bring back silent movies for a very specific reason - Gabrielle Union. She is so pretty, but once she opens her mouth and starts to "act", she just ruins it. Or maybe they could just dub her voice with some more talented, less attractive actress.

4. I went to the movies twice in two days this weekend. I saw that old wack "Paranormal Activity" and the pretty good "Good Hair." I think almost that matches the number of times I've been to the movies in the last 2 years.

5. I can't take people that are bipolar in their Facebook/Blogger posts. It's like pick what you want to be. Do you want to be the inspirational Jesus person, or the woe is me person? Are you going to be the one that posts videos of Fred Hammond or the one that posts videos of teenagers fighting? Pick one, or at the very least, don't be contradictory within the same hour.

6.DJ AM winning a BET Hip Hop award for DJ of the year? Really??? I don't take award shows seriously, but come on? And his reality show about helping young people on drugs? Didn't he die of an overdose? Can you really take him seriously, no matter how noble his intentions may have been?

7. Jameil and I have horrible experiences with waiters/waitresses in Atlanta. Why do they all seem to disappear when its time to give us the check. When I'm done eating, I'm ready to go. I'm not trying to sit there sucking on the ice in my empty cup while you do God knows what. I'm trying to pay you. Better be lucky they didn't know the old me. I would have dined and dashed so fast back in the day. LOL

8. I've been having some crazy dreams lately.. including one where I was sawing off someones head. Weird, huh? I go through periods where I have the strangest dreams.

9. Remember when people said they wouldn't listen to R Kelly after the little girl controversy, or Chris Brown after the Rihanna thing? Yeah, y'all some liars! LOL

10. I liked it better when none of my neighbors had cars. I used to have the parking lot to myself, but now the Africans that live above me have anywhere from 2-4 cars and the woman next to me has a van. Get out of my parking spot, people!!!

Thursday Thirteen: How I Know I'm Getting Old(ish)

1. I’m more Soul than hip hop these days. Except when I’m rocking out to my music from my teens and twenties (see #3) I never would have thought that I would actually be listening to singing more than rap, but sometimes I just need to chill out.

2. Get cold sometimes – This started a few years ago. I was the type who never wore a jacket, or a coat. I was mad warm blooded. Now, when it hits 50, I looking for something to cover me like a normal person.

3. Stuck in my decades of music – I will listen to some hip hop from 86-96 like its brand new. That’s my golden era. So many dope songs, dope artists, dope albums. When I hear today’s music, I don’t necessarily think it’s any worse than the worst of my era, but there’s much less diversity than I’m used to. I could listen to PE for conscious rap, then listen to NWA for that gangsta ish. Then Tribe to cool out, then Kane for the battle rap. Yeah, although I know there was plenty of crap *cough*Hammer, Vanilla Ice *cough* back then, it just seems like there is more of it now. I’m sure my kids will go through the same thing.

4. I say "back in the day" – yeah, I got a lot of back in the day stories. It just seems like so long since some of the stories took place. I’ve been out of high school for 17 years. That qualifies as back in the day, right?

5. Don’t mind being called sir – The first time some young kid called me sir, I was mortified. I’m like, I’m only a few years older than you, son! Now, I’m okay with it. Young whippersnapper better show me some respect!!!
6. I’m older than almost all athletes – With the exception of maybe Brett Favre and a few other hanger ons, there aren’t too many 35 year old pro athletes. It gets even worse when you watch college sports. Yo, them kids look mad young, yo!

7. Don’t have any idea who a lot of pop culture people are – Yeah, who is Taylor Swift? I didn’t know before the Kanye thing. I don’t know any of them Gossip Girl people are or Twilight. Lest you think it’s a black thing, another one I heard the other day, Nikki Minaj. I was like whodatis???

8. Have to sleep right or risk a messed up back – I can sleep on a bed, or I can sleep on a couch, but don’t let me be all twisted up, or I’m gonna have a pain in my lower back for 3 days. I used to be able to sleep anywhere. I didn’t even have a bed from age 11-19, so I used to pride myself on my narcoleptic tendencies. Not anymore. I gotta be careful.

9. I be wanting babies! – Okay, I was like this when I was fairly young too, but now I’m really ready. Bring on my little daddy’s girl Aaliyah. I’m ready to meet her.

10. I try to stay out of the hood clubs – I used to go everywhere whenever the mood struck. Now, I’m like I’m not going there, somebody got shot there last week. I’ll pass.

11. Feel really weird when noticing attractive young women – I’m not a dirty old man, but sometimes I feel like one. It’s like, okay, she’s attractive, then it’s like okay she was born in 1990. That just feels wrong.

12. Have classmates that have kids going to college. And I’m not talking about the fast ones that had kids in high school. People that actually graduated with me or a year before got college students. That’s crazy to me.

13. Jameil seldom if ever knows what I’m talking about. When I make old school references, that is. Stuff that I think is universal, apparently isn’t. Who knew that my B.A. Baraca’s reference or yelling out “By the power of Greyskull” would solicit such a blank look. LOL I think that’s why “Family Guy” is hilarious to me. They have so many 80’s references that I just get.

Thoughts Of A Sometimes Loner

So, by now everybody knows I’m a bit of a loner. Not in the weird serial killer, sniper on the roof way, but in the I enjoy being by myself way. I’ve not always been this way. When I was a kid in New York, I had plenty of friends. Then I moved to Savannah, and became a loner. In college and the years subsequent, I had a huge circle of friends that I would go out with, invite to my crib, party and bs with every Wednesday-Saturday. Then I moved to Atlanta, and loner status returned. Then, a few years later, I was back to being the social butterfly, going for drinks every weekend with the co-workers. Invariably, loner status kept finding me. I know I have the skill to be outgoing and fun, but I just don’t have the will. This isn’t a post to analyze why that is, I already know the answer to that. I like myself more than I like other people. It really is that simple. I find it much easier to not put up with other people’s idiosyncrasies, because I like my own. The point of the post was to tell you guys a story. I guess I should get to it.

This story foreshadowed the loner status that pops up in my life. When I was 9 or 10 years old, my mom decided to send me to Boy Scout camp. I was a cub scout and I enjoyed all the things that little boys like. I took pride in my troop. I especially enjoyed those days when I could wear my blue and yellow uniform to school and show off my badges. I had lots of little friends and most of them were in cub scouts too. The only problem was they weren’t going to camp with me. It was me and about 500 strangers from the Rockland and Westchester county areas. No Timmy, No Steven, No Ira, No Gautum… none of my friends were going to Boy Scout camp. At first I felt proud that I was doing something that none of them were doing, but the reality hit me that first morning as I was catching the bus. I was alone with a bunch of strangers. And I didn’t like it.

The bus ride was torturous. I don’t remember how far the camp was from my apartment, but it seemed like hours. People were laughing about things that happened in school, or making fart jokes, and there I sat: a little kid that knew nobody, and didn’t have the nerve to get to know them. I sat in silence with the thought running through my head. “I wanna go home and watch Voltron.” When we got to the camp, things didn’t really get much better. Camp itself was awesome. They had trails to take mini hikes, archery, a big field to run around and get dirty on. It had everything an active boy like myself could want. Except, there were way too many strangers around. I hated that part. I didn’t like working in groups learning how to whittle. And I didn’t like the way people looked at me when I was trying to learn how to use the bow and arrow. Sure, they probably were just waiting for a turn, but it made me feel uncomfortable. I got hot with anxiety. A couple of times I felt like going to sit in the corner until the bus came to take us home. Okay, a couple of times I did just sit by myself looking sad until a camp counselor made me rejoin the revelry. When I got home that evening, I told my mom I wanted to quit Boy Scout camp. She made me go the next day, and it was just as bad. All the fun that was there to be had was ruined by the fact that I just couldn’t talk to strangers and make friends.

Moms finally let me quit after day 3. I just couldn’t take it. I wanted to be alone or in the absence of that, in my own comfort zone. I was comfortable with the friends I had from school and that lived in the neighborhood. I’m kind of the same way now. To people that I see every day, I’m outgoing, fun even. Sure, I don’t want to go out with my co workers, but I’ll talk to them. Around people I don’t know, I’m just kind of there. I don’t even want to talk to them, and wish they would stop talking to me. Wait...

This thought just hit me: Since I go back and forth between social and anti social, I wonder if this current withdrawal from society is another phase that I’ll break out of. I wonder if once I’m married with children if I’ll go back to being the guy that talks to everybody, or if I’ll be the weird parent that you only see standing in the back at school plays or honking the horn outside of my kids friends house because I don’t want to make small talk with the parents. Wow, this post went in a whole nother direction, didn’t it? Something to think about… which I’ll do one day when I’m avoiding people’s phone calls and staying home alone.

Thursday Thirteen: Darius' Dumb Dating Advice

I knew this cat named Darius back in college that for some reason decided that he was going to take me under his wing and show me the ropes. I don't know why he decided to try to make me his protege, but it didn't work.  Even as a 17 year old freshman, I knew he was full of it..  These were some of the rules he gave me as an incoming freshman on how to deal with college females.

Darius’Dumb Dating Advice:

1. Never take a girl out to Applebee’s… if she asks. If she doesn’t ask, then it’s okay. That’s how you weed out the gold diggers.

2. Never date a girl until you see her real hair. You never know, she just might be baldheaded. You don’t want to go pick up a girl and not recognize her.

3. Never get serious about a girl that smokes more than you. You never know what’ll happen when she’s high with some other dude.

4. Never believe a girl when she says she doesn’t have a boyfriend back home. Just like you have someone at another college, they probably do to.

5. Never date a girl from Louisiana. They know voodoo.

6. Never date a girl with the same major as you. When it goes bad, you’ll still have to see her all the time.

7. Never date a girl with a car. You want them to be dependent on you. They get all grateful when you take them to Walmart.

8. Never call a girl before a week. You don’t want to give up your position of strength.

9. Never return a page on a Friday night. You don’t want them to know you don’t have other options.

10. Never mess with girls in the same dorm at the same time. If you have to, then at least make sure they are on different floor.

11. Never go to the dorms. Make them meet you out on the yard. Gotta make sure your other girls don’t see you.

12. Never date a local girl. I went to college locally at Savannah State, so a good number were from my hometown. The logic for this one was that I could meet them anytime, but its better to get with girls that I wouldn’t normally meet.

13. Never call a girl back that pages you 3 times before you can find a payphone. She’s a stalker, or at the very least needy. This was the only good piece of advice. The rest of it was dumb, misogynistic, and misguided.