TLC

Jameil got me watching The Freaks and Weirdo channel tonight AKA TLC I remember when TLC used to be about educational stuff, but now it's all about these strange human oddities. 1000 lb parents, 7 foot tall kids, and babies that eat eyeballs. Okay, I made that last one up, but this is getting ridiculous. I can't take it. I have a well documented aversion to midgets, so once TLC started showing the Little People show all the time, I pretty much forgot I had this channel. Then Jon and Kate got popular and that was even more reason for me to not watch TLC, but every now and then I'll be turning through the channels and see the sensational title like "Your Baby Ate What?" and have to check out what they are talking about.

It's always a bad idea. I don't want to see that. Things that creep me out: midgets, conjoined twins, visible tumors on the outside of someone's body. big giant preternaturally large babies... I've seen all these on TLC, so I think I should just block that channel. And yes, if my child had one of these afflictions, I would still love him/her.

The Co Workers Meet Jameil...

Yeah, I'll let Jameil tell you about that one. Read her post for the recap. I'm going to The Vortex for a burger now. Have a great night.

Make It A Pitcher

It's no secret that Jameil and I love Mexican food, so when I got home from work last night, 1st step was to go to get some. I had already did the research. Twisted Taco stayed open til 12:30 every night. I just knew I was gonna have me some margaritas and burritos, maybe some guacamole. So we get to the restaurant and there are cars in the parking lot, people inside. I thought nothing of it. Until it took them forever to seat us. I was wondering what was happening. Then a dude comes by and says that the kitchen is closed, but the bar is open. For real, you close the kitchen at 10:30 and don't close for 2 hours later. Ugggh. I really wanted some Mexican.

We wound up going to Marietta Diner and it was good, but I still really want some Mexican. We looked at a couple online. One didn't have margaritas. the other one didn't answer their phone. Bad signs. We got one more new one that we are about to try. We tried to find it sometime last year, but wound up getting lost. That was a crazy night. Anyway, if we don't find it, we have several different favorites we can go to. I will have a margarita tonight. In fact, make it a pitcher!!!

The Curious Case Of Jameil1922

I can’t wait to get home. By the time I get there, Jameil should waiting for me. I got a three day weekend that I get to spend with her. Then I work Monday and Tuesday, then I get to spend another week of vacation with her. AWESOME!!! I’m starting to think my co-workers have an unnatural obsession with Jameil. They can’t stop asking about her and things related to her. Maybe they think she doesn’t really exist??? Maybe they have a girl crush on her. Maybe they just want to know what kind of woman could actually put up with me. For whatever reason, they are mad curious about her.
So, as I said, she’s going to be waiting for me when I get home from work. The co workers were really curious about that one. “You mean she has a key?” Yes, she has a key. How else is she going to get in the house when I’m at work? “So you guys are serious?” Of course we are, but what does a key have to do with it? “You aren’t afraid she’s going to snoop through your stuff?” No, but if she did, she had plenty of time to do that in the last year and a half that I’ve been leaving her at my crib. “I never even gave my fiancé a key.” Well, that’s your relationship. As I recall, you didn’t get married… maybe you should have given him one. (I couldn’t resist being a jerk) Why are you so curious anyway?

Then later in the day: more curiosity. “Is your girlfriend there yet?” Nah, not yet. She should be there before I get home. “Where is she right now?” I don’t know. I imagine she’s on the highway. “She doesn’t check in with you?” What do you mean check in? “She should let you know where she is. She’s a girl driving by herself.” She’ll be fine. It’s not the first time she’s making that drive. “But if something happens, don’t you want to know where she is?” Yes, but I imagine if something happens she’ll call me then. “What if her phone isn’t working?” What do you expect me to do? Have her text message me every 5 minutes. She’s a big girl. “You should be more concerned. I’m gonna tell her to text you next time when I see her.” Okay. I’ll find out where she is when I go to break. “Tell her I was worried!” I can’t print what I was thinking, but it involved multiple curse words about nosy people.
When Jameil meets my co workers, it’s going to be a curious case. Hopefully they get all the curiosity out of the way so I don’t have to keep answering questions every day at work. Methinks they might be a little obsessed with Jameil.

Picture Post

Leaving My Job On A Snow Day

Snow Day Pt 2

Me on the way to my cousin's funeral

You may want to enlarge this one. Found it on the mailbox at my apt complex.







AND FINALLY... Since she likes to post bad pictures of me on her blog on purpose, I thought I would retaliate

Jameil eating some Krispy Kreme!!!

Hello, Captain Obvious!!

Back in the day before we had a falling out, me and everybody’s favorite blogger used to be chat online all the time. One of her favorite nicknames for me was Captain Obvious. She loved to call me out on the really apparent stuff that I would say, and it became a bit of a running joke with us. I would sometimes intentionally say obvious stuff as a joke. Well, today at work, I had to relinquish my nickname. This dude across the aisle from me totally outdid me and he wasn’t even joking. If he said all this today, I can't imagine the obviousness he spews on a daily basis.


Wow, Memphis is right on the border of Arkansas
Remember that walking pneumonia I had? I really was coughing a lot back then. Remember?
Tiger Woods is the best golferin the world. People are going to start watching again once he comes back.
Dude, Steve Jobs has a lot of money!
You ever been to Canada? They say they have free health care there.
Man, Philly has the best cheese-steaks
Those Republicans are really fighting Obama. They don’t like him.

Hello Captain Obvious! Could you do me a favor and STFU?!?!

Tweek/Old Friend/Tweek

I didn’t have a lick of caffeine today… but I’m tweeking. I don’t know what is going on. I can’t keep still. I’m talking like Vanessa’s friend on the Cosby Show. I’m even typing mad fast like I actually know what I’m doing. What in the world is going on? I can’t get it together. Maybe it’s because it was so busy at work today that I was trying to get things done in an expeditious manner. Or maybe someone slipped some speed in my water. For real though.. I need this to calm down. YO!!! Why is my hand shaking? This looks really weird. And my right pinky keeps twitching. Man, I wish I had some time to self diagnose myself on WebMd. This is really strange. My mind is racing like crazy. I have like 10 thoughts going at once, but the strange thing is that I can comprehend all of them. Man, someone please take this hyperactivity away from me before I have to drive home. I don’t want to be switching lanes all willy nilly because I feel impatient. I sound crazy right now, so let me write about something else.

Am I the only one that gets nervous when people contact you out of blue? Well that happened to me today. One of my ex girlfriends, who works for the same company, but in another state, sent me an IM today. Before I even read it, I was shook. Like what now… Did someone die? Or do you need to borrow money? Or have you realized that you are madly in love with me? What, it could happen! In fact, it’s happened to me previously, probably why I was so nervous. Luckily, it was none of the above. Just a friendly check in, but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like tomorrow I’m going to come to work and find an email pouring out her heart. We made much better friends than boyfriend and girlfriend, so I know that’s not going to really happen. At least I hope not. LOL

I just forgot where I was going with that part of the post. Darn tweeking… I think I had something else to say, but now my leg is jumping and it’s distracting me. I need to go walk around for awhile and try to clear my head. Da hell is wrong with me today?

Super Fans

In the limited time I spend on Twitter, one thing always shocks me. How much people stan for their favorite artists. I guess I shouldn't be shocked, since this is a world full of celebrity worship, but the level of obsession that people have is overwhelming. Perhaps it's always been that way, but seeing it all in one place is jarring. Two people in particular get the fans mobilized like no other. Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj.

There are 50-11 twitter users with some form of Bieber in their handles. Things like Bieberholics or Bieberfan, or Bieberfever. Anytime he does anything, they light up twitter talking about him. I don't get it. I understand I'm not his demographic, so I'm not supposed to get it, but I still don't. Maybe he's talented, maybe the girls think he's cute, but my goodness, the fervor is overkill. Same with Nicki Minaj. Little teenage girls with Minaj in their names. Do they even know what that means? Or emulating her barbie persona. Thousands of girls with Barbie in their name. Now I do know a little something about rap, so I know that she sucks. Her lyrics are garbage, and she isn't all that attractive either. And girls are lining up to get their boobs signed by her too? Twitter is on Nicki Minaj overload.

Since I'm an understanding type of person, I tried to think back to when I was younger. Was there anybody that I just was obsessed with? The closest I could think of was the 1986 Mets. I tried to swing like Daryl Strawberry, and I tried to pitch like Dwight Gooden, which was impossible since I, unlike him, was left handed. I guess I also was the world's biggest Big Daddy Kane fan back in the day. I wanted to rap like him. but he wasn't the only rapper I liked. And then as far as having crushes... I had a thing for Ananda Lewis. But I wasn't going to write her letters or show up where she was to express my love for her. Plus the more I heard her talk, the more annoying she got, and thus the crush dissipated.

I don't know. Is this just a case of me getting older and not understanding today's youth? I hope not. I didn't think that would start until I was at least 50. I thought I still had 15 years before I started talking about young whippersnappers and their triviality. Or maybe I just am cut from a different cloth. I've always been a bit weird, and perhaps that weirdness made me not be a pop culture junkie like the rest of the world. Who knows? What about you? Did you have anybody that you were obsessed with (in a normal way) when you were younger? Or now even? Do you still have a secret shrine to a celebrity? You can tell me. I won't judge. Let's be real. Of course I'll be judging you. LOL

And Now...Rashan Responds Snarkily To A Meme That Nobody Asked Him To Do

I was looking for a stupid little meme to do to count as my Saturday post. As I was reading over it, I started making jokes, so now you have to read them. READ THEM I SAID!!!! Then I realized it was long, but once I started, I couldn't stop.


Do you get regular massages?
Nope, I don’t like strangers touching me. Even if I know you a little bit, you ain’t got to be touching me. That goes for hugs, light taps on the arm, rubbing my back. Lay off the touching.


Do you have an answering machine?
Yes, because it’s 1987 again. I also have a boom box, a jheri curl, some adidas shelltoes with fat multicolor laces and a “You Can’t Do That On Television” lunch box.


What cuss word do you use the most?
*avert your eyes, Jameil* I enjoy the f word. As in da fu..?? or nah, fu that!!! or fu is you talking about? Man, I don’t get to curse enough anymore, since Jameil is a puritan. But don’t let me be by myself…


Are you underweight or overweight?
Overweight, but I’m about to hit the sauna later tonight so I can make weight for my title fight.


Can you see your veins?
No, because I’m a dark skinned African!!! *turns arm over* what are these green things on my forearm?


Favorite…

Soap?
I refuse to answer this question truthfully and say “Dove” because you’ll think the answer to the next question is me…just wait..
Fruit?
I like Tim Gunn. He’s pretty awesome. Oh wait, I mean grapes.
Fish?
Which is my favorite dish. But without the money it’s still a wish. Couldn’t think of a joke, so I used a lyric instead.


Candy bar?
Whatever the sugar dealers at my job have on deck. I’m pretty sure that they are responsible for 72% of diabetes in the Metro Atlanta Area. They always got cake, or cupcakes, or candy bars.

Have You Ever…


Eaten a whole bag of potato chips?
Yes, but I’ve blocked out the memory with the help of a therapist and life coach. I’m working on my binge eating. Now, it’s just binge drinking.


Eaten lobster?
Why do you think I’m wearing this bib? Oh, my drooling problem? Nah, it’s b/c of lobster.


Climbed a mountain?
I don’t think she would appreciate you calling her a mountain. Tall people have feelings too.


Been skydiving?
Since I have an aversion to urinating on myself, having heart attacks and pulling cords, I’ve yet to experience this one yet.


Do You…
Wish you could change something about your life?
Do you mean other than my decision to start this meme?
Like your nose?
Except when it gets dry, or full of mucous. Then I’d be content with being a mouth-breather like Biggie.


Like salt and vinegar chips?
The weirdest combination since *insert obscure pop culture reference here*


Eat salsa?
I feel like if there was a comma between those two words, it would be the way Ricky Ricardo asked Lucy out on a date.
Own a boat?
I used to until it crashed into an iceberg, and started capsizing. There weren’t enough lifeboats, so a bunch of people had to jump in the water as my boat sank. Two of them, Jack and Rose were clinging to the debris in the cold ocean expressing their love for each other. *spoiler alert* Jack let go and drowned.


What Is…


A small thing that people let slide but that actually has dire consequences?
Man, I wish Dennis Kucinich was a Republican. This joke would actually be funny.


Your most macho trait?
I'd have to say it’s watching every episode of Felicity, The Gilmore Girls and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. What’s macho-er than that?


The longest relationship you’ve ever had?
Me and my fake wife have been together for about 11 years. What had happened was… I made up a fake wife to get rid of a real stalker, and we never actually got fake divorced. Fake wife didn’t thwart real stalker by the way. It made her think I was the marrying type. Oh self esteem! Why doesn’t everybody have you?


Your most embarrassing thoughts?
Man, I hope nobody finds out that I actually do like Plies. That would ruin my rep as a discerning hip hop head.
Your most shameful moment?
I’ve only told one person that story and she turned out not to be who she said she was, so I’m gonna hold off on telling that moment to the entire blog world. Let’s just say it involves pajamas, Atari, laxatives, and my best friend looking at me with pity.


This/That…
Bath/Shower?
I don’t like baths because who wants to sit in their own filth. But I do like bubbles, so I started taking bubble showers.


Markers/Crayons?
It really depends what I’m writing. Ransom notes look sinister in crayon, but markers are best for my anti government protest placards.


Pens/Pencils?
I never have a pen when I need one. This is not a joke, just the truth. For real, where do all my pens go?


Jelly/Cream Cheese?
It must be jelly cuz cream cheese don’t shake like that. Unless you put it in the dryer. Then it shakes a whole lot. And probably melts. And makes a pretty big mess… On second thought.. don’t put cream cheese in the dryer.


Bagel/Toast?
I only eat bagels if someone else buys them. I like them, but I never spend my money on them. Sorta like strippers. LOL


Finish…


My greatest weakness is…
My lame right arm.


I wish I was…
I bet you all expected me to say “a little bit taller, I wish I was a baller, I wish I had a girl that looked good I would call her.” And I guess you are right.


Three things I wouldn’t do for a million dollars are…
If there are only three things on your list, then you are more than likely morally bankrupt and have a cast iron stomach.


The oddest thing I’ve ever put in my mouth is…
the number 3 (get it, because it’s odd… corny oh well.)


Firsts…

Credit card you had?
I think it was a discover card. And now to quote every bad black comedian from the 1990’s… wait til they discover I can’t pay the bill!! Ladies and Gentleman, I’ll be at the Chuckle Hut this Thursday. 2 drink minimum. Call ahead for seating.


Loan you got was for?
Educational purposes, you know like painting my car and buying new Hilfiger.


Paycheck was for how much?
Man, I can’t even remember, but I do know that I bought a CD with it. Probably something extremely sucktastic that I still have, but have not listened to since 1992, but would get mad if you tried to take away from me.


Time you had stitches?
Stupid neighborhood watch program forgot to tell me what snitches got.


Time you went to the hospital for something?
To be born, I guess. I don’t know if I went will still in the womb, but then again, I probably shouldn’t start a Tim Tebow-esque Life starts at conception conversation on my blog.


Lasts…


List everything you ate in the last 24 hours?
No, you can’t tell me what to do. The fact that I had a frozen pizza from Krogers and a bowl of cereal is none of your business


What was your job previous to the one you have now?
I was a professional blogger. Meaning that while I was supposed to be working I was on the internet at my desk. Conference Call? Let’s check some blogs. Meeting with H.R. – check blogs on my phone. Employee complaining that I’m not paying attention to him – Give him the nickname Mr. Softee and write about him on my blog.


Last thing you celebrated?
Friday, I celebrated my paycheck by paying bills. Does that count?


Last time you were at a sports bar?
That time when me and Jameil ordered a buffalo sauce burger and they had like no sauce on it. And our waiter who looked like Kevin Federline was trying to charge us for the sauce that was supposed to be on the burger in the first place. Stupid Taco Mac!

Every 90 Days

Every 90 days, it’s the same old thing. Time to change my password at work. It wouldn’t seem to be that big of a deal, but for some reason, I always seem to have trouble.

First of all, the password has to be a specific amount of characters. So even if I have a good one in mind, if it has too many or too little characters, then I’m stuck. Then it has to have at least one number in it. And that number can’t be at the end. For example I couldn’t use jameil1, I would have to do something like jam1eil. That’s just an example, not an actual password, so don’t be trying to hack my stuff. But for real, I find myself having to type like those 1d10tz (that spells "idiots" for the non-idiots) 0n mYspac3 in order to come up with a password that actually works. And I just can’t bring myself to do that.

Instead, I have to think of something that I will actually remember. I have a great long term memory. For instance, I can remember that my phone number from 1983-1986 was 914 425 1464. But my short term memory is shot. Sometimes I’ll just forget what I was doing while I’m doing it. *Insert weed joke here*. It has to be something memorable if I’m going to remember it. I’ve used my favorite rappers, my favorite sports teams, the kids in my family. I can remember those. But I can’t use any derivatives of them again for 18th months. So, now I have to think of random thoughts that pop in my head to use as passwords. And those just don’t stick. I think I’ve run out of passwords

One of the biggest problems with my password is that I always seem to be leaving on vacation when it’s time to reset them. I’m either having a long weekend, or a week long vacation when it’s time to change my password. I shouldn’t use that as an excuse since it does remind me every day for 2 weeks before it’s time, but I don’t be thinking about it until the very last minute. Who knew my procrastination could extend to something as mundane as changing a password. In fact instead of writing this post, I probably should be thinking of my next password since I only have 9 days left.

P.S. Jameil can you stop posting... I'm really running out of things to blog about as evidenced by me posting about passwords. LOL

One Of Those Days

It was one of those days where people, places and things (mostly people) were annoying me. Nothing major, but just enough for me to write about them...

Somebody smells like outside. Like when we were kids and spent all day frolicking in the woods. For real, there’s a new invention called a shower. Can you look into that?

I can’t seriously be the only person that can read in this meeting. This clearly says “manager duty”, so why are you telling us that this is what we are going to do? I tried to tell you too, and you shut me down? For real, dog?

Creepy Security Guard guy: I need you to stop listening to Rush Limbaugh on your portable radio. Do you not realize that you work with 80% black people and we will mess you up if you call us “Magical Negroes?” I’m just saying, this is not the place for you to make your Anti Obama stand.

Is there a reason that it feels like the pits of Hell inside? You are killing me. It’s 32 degrees outside and 87 inside. I’m not saying it needs to be cold in here, but I’m about to sweat up in here. Maybe that’s why somebody smells like outside up in here.

I know you have to talk, since it’s a requirement for the job, but just for a few hours could you pretend to be a deaf-mute. Or not even a deaf mute, just a mute. In other words, stop talking. I hate your voice.

For real, my dude? Why you gonna run like that? Let me back up. Why are you running at work anyway? And if you are gonna run at work, could you make an effort to not sashay whilst running. Why are your arms moving side to side like that? Why you gonna twist at the waist like that? (Nexgrl – You don’t have to answer this one for me. I already know the answer. . LOL)

Ms Cougar Lady, please don’t regale any more tales of your secksual conquests. I don’t believe you. I don’t want to know that much about you. And did I mention I don’t believe you? I’m sure you have a rich fantasy life, but work is not the place to talk about it.

Lent

When I was a kid we used to go to an Episcopalian church. Every year we had to give something up for Lent. It was always something trivial, such as one of favorite toys, or chocolate milk. As I got older, we went to more Protestant type churches where Lent was not practiced as heavily. A couple of years ago, I decided to start doing it again, not so much for religious reasons, but for discipline reasons. I gave up soda, and even today, I don't drink it like I used to. I'll still indulge every now and then, mostly when I'm taking a road trip, but those 40 days made me realize that it was no big deal not to drink soda all the time. That brings us to this year.

Jameil and I are going to give up fast food. It was her idea, but I quickly jumped on the bandwagon. There's something about her that makes me extremely competitive. Yes, I'm aware that is probably not the right spirit to bring into what's supposed to be a religious experience, but being honest with myself and you, that's what it is. I want to prove that I can do the same thing she is doing. Now, this is gonna be hard. I work a 10 hour day, 12 hours if you count travel time and lunch. I usually leave at 10:45 AM and get home at 10:45 PM. Those days, I just don't feel like cooking. It's going to be a challenge not to just stop off at Taco Bell on the way home from work. Hopefully, this will get me eating healthier, save money (although I've mastered the art of getting the cheapest food these restaurants have to offer), and get me to cook more often. And who knows, after getting used to this for 40 days, maybe I'll be over the fast food, like I'm over the soda. Either way, wish me luck.

Fast food has many definitions so Jameil and I defined it for our purposes. Of course, McDonalds and Burger King are out, but we also included any restaurant that has a drive through window. This includes our favorite Mexican spot in Florida. Also, Pizza Hut and Papa Johns, and chains like that count. The biggest blow for me is that we are including Subway and other sandwich spots like that. If you know anything about me, you know I can live on Subway tuna subs, and there's this place in Gainesville called Jimmy Johns that has the best Italian sub on earth. But those are out for awhile. One of two things is gonna happen. Either I'll start cooking more, or I'll have to go to a bunch of sit down restaurants and spend more money. I'll try for the former, but if all else fails, the latter is just gonna have to work.

What about you guys? Do you give up anything for Lent? If so, what?

Wait... I Didn't Say That!!!

 Color Code:  

Co Worker 1, Co Worker 2, Me

"Hey Rashan. I know you won't come but I want to invite you anyway. I'm having a birthday dinner on the 27th."

"For real? I'll try to make it.

"Rashan ain't coming. He's going down to Florida that weekend."

"Umm. I'm mad that you think you know my schedule better than me. I actually won't be going that weekend."

"OOOOHHH, You are gonna skip a weekend?"

"Nah, Jameil will be here."

"Does that mean we get to meet her?"

"I don't know. We'll see what we are doing."

"You have to bring her. We love her."

"ummm...okay."

"I know we don't know her, but we like her for you."

"Thanks. Me too."

"So you gonna bring her?"

"I'm not sure. I'll talk to her.Where is the dinner anyway?"

"Red Lobster"

"Uhhh...yeah, about that. We are food snobs, so I don't know about that.'

"She's bourgie too?"

"Way more bourgie than me. We don't eat at chains."

"Well, try to see if you can make an exception so we can meet her."

"Okay. I'll let you know."

"Hey, everybody.. Rashan is bringing his girlfriend to Tasha's birthday dinner!"

"Wait... I didn't say that.."

Random Thoughts Again

The NBA all star game had 108 thousand people there. I know you want to experience the atmosphere, but for real, what are you actually going to see. If the court is just 94 ft, and you are way up in the nosebleeds, you ain’t seeing nothing. You could have saved that money and went to a sports bar and got drunk.

Does it make me juvenile that I chuckle every time I pass the Withlacoochee (sound it out) River when I’m driving to Florida?

I don’t get how Maury is still on TV. Are people still shocked when it turns out that the 13th dude is not the father?

I’m eating a poppy seed muffin and just had a flashback to that episode of Seinfeld when one of them (I think it was Elaine) tested positive for opium because of a poppy seed muffin. I know it was just a TV show, but I actually stopped eating the muffin for a second before I realized I was being stupid. Also, there are no drug tests, so if I actually wanted to take opium, nobody would know. LOL

I’m working on President’s Day and they are sending us trivia emails all day. I know all the answers, but once I found out what the prize for winning is, I was like, never mind. It’s not worth my time to even type these answers: I already got a muffin!!!

Are we done with Swine Flu? I haven’t heard anything about that in a minute? Is it no longer a pandemic? Is it just a irritation now? Did we overreact to it a few months ago?

I don’t watch much Winter Olympics… okay, I don’t watch any Winter Olympics, but I used to like the luge, the bobsled and ski jumping. I was reading about how in Women’s Hockey, Canada beat the bricks off someone 18-1 and now there is an uproar… The way I see it, if you don’t want to get beat that badly, you have 2 choices: Don’t go to the Olympics or get better at your sport. This ain’t little league with a mercy rule. (Wo)man up!!!

#petpeeve: People who are divorced or single trying to give relationship advice. This means you Steve Harvey. This means you Hill Harper. This means you lonely bitter woman who hasn’t had a relationship in years, but is always talking about what you don’t want from a man. This means you wanna-be player who wants his homeboy to be single so he’ll have someone to go to the club and chase girls with. JUST STOP IT!!!
I’m over going to movies. I’ll just wait for Netflix. I’d rather pay $18 a month and getting a bunch of movies a month, than pay $19.50 to see a movie Jameil and I may or may not like. I don’t have to be first. Besides, movies be coming out on DVD like 3 months later now. I think I’ll just wait.

So, I used to be the biggest fan of the tv show 24.. This year, I almost don’t want to watch. Everything that has happened this year, has already happened in the previous 7 years. I find myself not even paying attention because I already know what’s going to happen before it happens. They need to get that together. My other show “Lost” is still keeping me interested, mainly b/c I have no idea what’s going on and haven’t since it started 5 years ago. Can’t wait for the payoff though.

My weekly FB/Twitter rant: I don’t know why I follow/am friends with some people. They get on my nerves. What does it say about me that I can’t delete them, but instead will continue to read their stuff just so I can laugh at them, or mock them? As Jameil likes to say about me… I’m a bad person (but then again, she does the same thing, so she must be bad too. LOL)

Model UN

Confessions of a high school loser

When I was in high school, it would be safe to say that I was a bit of a loser. I never thought so, since my self esteem was always through the roof, but in retrospect and through other people’s eyes yeah, I can see it. No story demonstrates this more than the time I went to Model UN.

Model UN was an extracurricular activity where students portrayed the role of different countries in the United Nations. The idea was to learn about politics and diplomacy. An extra nerdy function for the most part, but I’ve never been one to be ashamed of my intelligence, so when they asked me to join, I did.  Model UN also drew students from all over the region, so we had the opportunity to rub elbows with people that we normally would never meet. The country I was representing was Algeria, which was cool because it was in Africa, but not so cool, because it wasn’t the real Africa to me. You know Mr. Militant wanted to rep a Sub Saharan (AKA black) country. LOL. Anyway, the first night there, we got grouped together randomly, first in a group of 4 kids per country, then in a group of four countries. All together 16 kids sat to a table and talked about oil prices, and political prisoners and going to war. It was pretty cool, if a big nerd does say so himself.

One of the girls from my table was repping Portugal. She was, in the vernacular of my youth, “slammin’!!!” I can’t remember her real name, so I’ll just call her Portugal for the rest of the post. Anyway, me and Portugal got to talking during the work session, and hit it off. She was from Whitfield county, which I still don’t know where it is to this day. All I know is that she was country, and tall and light skinneded with long hair. Not my type now, but back then, you better believe it. She looked like a younger version of a video model. So we’re talking and she asks me if I want to sit with her and her friends at the banquet.  Ummm…. Yeah. Let's do it. 

We had fun at the banquet then it turned into a dance. One small problem: Rashan does not dance. I tried to avoid the dance floor for as long as I could until Portugal forced my hand. "Come On, Algeria...let's dance" She grabbed my hand and guess what I did... I danced with her. Yeah, I was a loser, but not that much of a loser. Hot chick wants to dance with you, then you dance... The loser part comes later after the banquet/dance was over. We were staying at the Jameson Inn in Statesboro, Ga. She invited me to come back to her hotel room. I had to go check in with my chaperone and was supposed to sneak out and go to her room at midnight. My roommate was scared of me and wouldn't snitch, so that would be no problem. Her roommate was inviting someone over too, so that was no problem. But when it came time for me to do the actual sneaking out, I got scared. It took forever to actually work up the nerve to leave the room. I made it all the way to her room, but I never knocked on the door. Yep, Rashan was a high school loser who was scared of the hot girl.

When I saw her the next day at Model UN, I made up a story about our chaperone watching us closely, and made my roommate back me up, but I think she knew I was lying. Me and Portugal barely spoke for the rest of the day. I can't believe how much of a loser I was that trip. 

9 hours

So yesterday I got off work early b/c of the snow. I took that as an excuse to come see Jameil earlier than usual. Hopped in the car, jumped on 75 south and everything was cool... for about 10 minutes. Then all hades broke loose. I guess everybody else was leaving work early too, so the highways were packed. And people were crashing into each other left and right. Not because of the road conditions, since it wasn't even icy or slippery. I honestly don't know why they were crashing. But they certainly were crashing. I counted at least 7 accidents before I even reached Downtown Atlanta. It was enough to make me want to just say forget and try again later. I had no choice though. I couldn't even get home if I wanted to. All the highways were exactly the same It took me 3 hours to get out of the Atlanta Metro area which was ridiculous.

It finally opened up a little before Macon, but it was still snowing and raining, so I had to be careful. It wasn't until I got close to Florida that the weather finally cooperated. All in All it took me 9 hours to make a trip that usually takes 5. It didn't really seem that long to me, but once I thought about how long in the car, I was instantly tired. Listening to audio books on my iPod really makes the time go more quickly. And I'm happy that I finally get to see Jameil after 3 weeks.

OUTTA HERE!!!

Partial snow day in effect. Time to head to the warmer climes of Florida. May write more if Jameil lets me use her computer. Peace!!!

Possible Snow Day Makes Rashan Ramble

Is it possible that I can actually get another snow day tomorrow? That would be dope. If so, then I can go down to Gainesville and see Jameil earlier!! Then Monday, it's supposed to snow too!!! Could I actually get a 4 day weekend without using any vacation time?  For real, I need a vacation. I got this interim manager at my job who is just getting on everybody's nerves. He's trying to change stuff that doesn't need to be changed. I hate having to be the one who always tells him that he's wrong. But I have to be. He's pretty cool when he's not trying to micromanage, so I pick and choose my battles, but I still find myself correcting him a lot. I mean, as long as a goal is met, why does it matter how it gets met. Just leave me alone and let me do my thing. I'll be glad when my old manager gets back from paternity leave. He knows when to leave things that don't matter alone.Then we found out that my department at work is getting phased out. They say it's supposed to be in December, but I don't believe them. They have never given this much notice about anything. Don't worry, I'm not losing my job. We'll be reassigned somewhere, that's if I'm still here. I'll probably be moving out of Atlanta anyway, so I'm not too worried. But I still need a vacation. My next one is at the beginning of March. Gonna hang out with Jameil for her Spring Break. I think we are going to Tampa some time during that week. I don't care as long as I don't have to work. And now it is 11:51, so I should probably post this rambling joint and go pray for some snow.

Valentine's Day Hate

I don't like being a cliche, but on this subject I am. I'm a man, and I think Valentine's Day is stupid. Stop me if you've heard this before. I know men across the country are lamenting the fact that on Sunday, they are expected to shower their significant others with gifts so soon after Christmas. And for alot of men, the return will not be equitable. They don't want candy and flowers. It's really a woman's holiday. Then you have the people, both male and female that hate the day because they aren't boo'd up. They get tired of seeing other people being blissfully happy while they are lonely and bitter. I've been single many times on VDay, but it never really bothered me.Finally you have the people like me that just don't like it because it's a made up holiday. You'll hear conspiracy theories abound from people like us about greeting card companies, jewelers and florists.

But really, that's not why I don't like Valentine's Day. For me, it's a lot more personal. You see, my father's birthday was February 14th. He died a long time ago, and I don't usually think about it except for around this time of the year. I always seem to retreat into my thoughts this time of the year. The frustrating thing is that I know it's going to happen, but I seem powerless to stop it. I don't really feel like celebrating. Since my wonderful, loving girlfriend does like Valentine's Day, I've tried to get over it and go with the flow, but the more I try, the more I find myself struggling. I'm not really the emotional type, so it bothers me that this bothers me so much. 

My procrastination reared its ugly head this year again. I waited way too long to figure out what I wanted to get Jameil. We already have dinner plans, a wine tasting and some other stuff that we are going to be doing, but I never quite got around to the gift part, so today I focused on that. Well, at least I tried. I found myself feeling some kind of way again. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm usually so steady, but this V Day thing keeps messing me up in the head. I need to find a way to get over this crap. Thanks for reading my therapy session.

Black History Month: The Scariest Day Of My Life

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history.

I didn’t arrive at this title easily, especially since I’ve been shot at, robbed at gunpoint, received multiple concussions and the like. But this day was so nerve wracking, it took me a full day to regain my composure. Let me tell you what happened.
I was in college, but still living at my grandmother’s house in Savannah. I was asleep on the floor in the living room, under a palate of blankets. My Sega Genesis controller was next to me, as were my huge DJ earphones that I used to listen to angry and misogynistic rap without offending the others in the house. I stayed up until about 5 the previous night, which was commonplace for me. I wasn’t up doing homework, but rather I was trying to finish a Bill Walsh College Football video game season. When the incident occurred, at around 8:30, I was good and sleep. Knocked out beyond comprehension. That’s when I heard it.
“EEEEEEEEEEE, EEEEEEEEEEE”

What the *&#@ was that?!? It was a strange shrieking noise that was coming closer every second. I didn’t want to get up and see what was going on, but something told me that I should. My contacts were blurry, but I clearly made out the sight of my grandmother running toward me. My brain focused a little and I saw her hands. They were flailing around and I saw something else that alarmed me. My great grandmother was standing behind her hitting her on her back. I realized my grandmother was choking. I immediately sprung in to action.
I was still half sleep, but I knew that I had to do something. My great grandmother was just making things worse by pummeling my grandmother on the back. I spoke in the most terse tone that I had ever spoken to my beloved elders.

GRANDMA CLEO, GET OUT OF THE WAY NOW!!!

She did. I felt bad about that, but it was necessary. I went in for the Heimlich Maneuver. I tried abdominal thrusts for a while, but it didn’t work. I realized that I wasn’t using enough force. I really didn’t want to hurt my grandma, who at this time was in her 70’s. But I had no choice. It was either hurt her, or lose her and that was not an option. I went back in for more. I thought about what I had to do. Thrust under the diaphragm. I knew where the diaphragm was from being in chorus all those years. My chorus teacher would always tell us to sing from our diaphragm and demonstrate where it was. I mustered my strength and gave 4 big abdominal thrusts. By the fourth one, she was no longer shrieking, and was now coughing. Grandma was okay!

I ran to the kitchen and got her some water. I noticed a big old horse pill in the hallway by the front door. It was blue and way bigger than anything I would ever hope to take. I was relieved she was okay, but still a little bit shook. I gave her a big ole hug and then went to collapse on the couch. I can’t believe how close I came to losing my grandma that day. That was the scariest day of my life thus far. Way scarier than anything bad happening to me. It’s like I always had a (foolish) sense that I would be okay no matter what manner of danger came my way. But that day, seeing my grandmother struggling to breath scared the mess out of me. She’s still with us 15 years later, and I couldn’t imagine how much life would have been different if she didn’t make it that day.

Black History Month: My Doritos Shirt

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history.

When I was about 14-15, I had this shirt that I just loved. It was a pull over, and it was this ugly shade of green, and it had matching shorts that went with it. That summer, I think I wore that shirt at least 3 times a week. And yes, we had a washing machine, so stop thinking I was nasty. I just liked wearing it. It was baggy, and comfortable when I was working out, which is something that I did a lot back then. Yeah, I was a chubby teenager, but I was active, unlike now. I used to be outside playing football or baseball, or cutting the grass or my favorite: riding the exercise bike. I would ride that bike for hours on end while I played Nintendo, or watched a movie. I need one of those in my life now. I’m sure I would be more active. Anyway, the problem with that shirt, which again, I loved so much was that once I got to sweating, the shirt started to smell like Doritos.

I don’t know why that happened. None of my other shirts did that. I was prone to sweating a lot, but I didn’t have any out of the ordinary smells. Just teenage funk, and I think I was a little more conscious of the stinky pits than other kids, because of my excessive sweating. I rocked antiperspirant and deodorant and took long showers without having to be told. So, why was this shirt smelling like that? What was this shirt made of? You would think that after a while, I would maybe stop wearing that shirt all the time, but nope. That ain’t Rashan. The Doritos shirt was my favorite. I couldn’t imagine my life without it. It was always fodder for jokes with my brother and sister. Maybe I kept it because I secretly wanted something to bond with my siblings over. Yeah, right! That wasn’t it. I’m just stubborn. And maybe the stronger the shirt smelled of Doritos, the more I knew I was burning calories. I don’t know, but it was really weird that nobody hid that shirt from me.

I was at my grandmother’s house Saturday and the memory of me in that shirt and jumping around with my brother and sister to an Bodies In Motion exercise program on ESPN came flooding back. I couldn’t help but laugh as I thought of those times. I could have sworn I smelled Doritos again too.

Black History Month: The Super Bowl Party

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history

It was 1999, and the Atlanta Falcons made it to the Super Bowl. Back then I wasn't a huge Falcons fan, but since my team the Tampa Bay Bucs didn't make it, I was rooting for the home team. We decided to have a Super Bowl party at my place, which is where most of my crew hung out all the time anyway. It was supposed to be just the regulars, but everybody at work told everybody else and before I knew it, there were tons of people in my little garage apartment. I didn't really care, since this was during one of my non anti social periods. Besides, more people meant more liquor, more tweeds, and more girls.

My homegirl Terri hooked up the food, and I had a few bottles of that hard liquor. We didn't mess around with beer or wine back then. And my homeboy Lorenzo had us covered on the tweeds. By kickoff, I was already nursing a nice little buzz thanks to some strong drinks and some even stronger blunts. I remember the room cheering when the Falcons had the ball, but that's about all I remember about that Super Bowl. The rest of the night came in flashes. In random order...

1. My landlord came over and smoked with us.
2. Somebody broke my toilet.
3. Random people were going in and out of my bedroom.
4. I only had one couch and some folding chairs, so people were huddled on the floor looking comatose.
5. At halftime, we started watching Friday,
6. I woke up with some Famous Amos chocolate chip and pecan cookies half chewed in my mouth.
7. Somebody ate the chili that my mom made for me.

I knew all this was happening but I was too knocked out to do anything about it. The real story happened after the game, which the Falcons lost 34-19. About midnight, the game was long over, but stragglers were still at my crib playing spades and drinking the remnants of the liquor. I was semi conscious on the couch. I smelled something burning. Now, it could have been anything: something on the stove or someone playing with matches, but my paranoid mind just knew it was something else. I managed to get up and stagger to the kitchen. Nothing there. I wandered around the apartment and couldn't find the source of the burning smell. Finally, I decided to open a window to get some fresh air. That's when it hit me. Smoke started pouring in the apartment. I ran outside to see what was going on and found it. A big plastic trash can outside was on fire.

I tried to turn on the water hose, but yeah, it didn't work. I ran in through the back door and turned on the faucet and filled up some cups with water, but that barely made a dent. I must have looked crazy with two little cups trying to put out a burning trash can. Nobody was helping me either. They were either oblivious, or too drunk to realize what was happening. Finally, I went in the refrigerator and grabbed a big pitcher of kool-aid - a mix of lemonade and grape - and threw it on the burning trash can. That put most of the flames out. Finally somebody else got up to help me, but by then it was over. I never found how the fire started, but if I had to guess, I'd say someone threw a lit blunt, or cigarette in the trash can. At any rate, it was time for them to go. I didn't know who was to blame, so I kicked all them jokers out. That was the last Super Bowl party I ever hosted.

Savannah Bound

I'm going to take a break from Black History Month series this weekend. I'm going to Savannah for my cousin's funeral/memorial service. I wrote about her last month. She died last Friday. It's not going to be a traditional funeral service, since she didn't want to have a church service and she is being cremated, so no burial service either. Not sure what it's going to be like, but I'll be there to show family support. While I'm in Savannah, I'm going to check out one of my nephew and niece's performances of Annie. It's crazy that they are in a kids performance, and charging $20. If I didn't love them, I would definitely skip it. The other crazy thing is that one of their shows is at the same time as the Super Bowl (Go Colts!!!) My sister, who is a big football fan, signed up to volunteer at that show, not realizing that it was the day of the game. Sucks for her. Anyway, I should really go hit the road now, so I'll end this now (and post it later in the day.) Have a good weekend.

Black History Month: Uncle Daddy

When I was about 9 or 10, something happened with my best friend G’s family that really freaked me out. They were a nice Indian family, red dot, not feather. His was a single parent household, much like mine. Then later, his Uncle came to live with them. I spent a lot of time over at his house, and he at mine. Our families ate together often. Uncle was the best cook. I loved his curry everything and mango ubiquity. The food was banging. And Uncle was funny too. His Indian accent used to crack me up, not in a laughing at you way, but in a laughing at your jokes way. Man, Uncle was cool. Then something happened that messed with my head: G’s Uncle married G’s mom.

What? Are these people out of their minds?!? G was surprisingly cool with it. He didn’t mind having an Uncle Daddy. I, however was grossed out. I tried to explain it to him, but he just wasn’t understanding me. I told him your uncle can’t marry your mom. That’s creepy. He said “no, it’s not!” I thought to myself, I can’t come over here anymore. No more Atari tournaments, no more slumber parties, no more flipping baseball cards with G. This house is creepy, and I can’t be a part of it. G didn’t realize why I was get freaked out. I repeated that Uncles can’t marry moms!! He asked “why not!”

Because that’s his sister!!!
G laughed at me like I was the stupid one. Turns out, in Indian culture, respected elders were called Uncle, whether they are related to you or not. I don’t remember how he explained that to me, but I finally understood. Man, Uncle Daddy was about to have me up in there praying for them fools. I still laugh whenever I think of that misunderstanding. It was like a bad episode of “Three’s Company”, with me playing Mr. Furley and G being Jack Tripper.

Black History Month: Dwayne Warned Me

I call these posts Black History Month because I’m Black, and these stories are my history
“Dawg, you sure?”
“Yeah, let’s do it”
“I don’t know about this. But it’s your life”

I should have heeded the warning. Dwayne was only looking out for me. I’d known him for about 10 years, and in that time we became a little more than associates, a little less than friends. We would hang out every now and then, but it’s not like I would go to him for advice. I was hard headed, so I didn’t listen.

I sat in the chair, the buzzing resonating in my ears. Loud, rowdy conversations permeated the small room. I think one or two of the other patrons were drunk. I was taking a big step, but I was confident that it work out for me. I’ve never been the type to have regrets anyway. I flinched as the buzzing came closer, then bit into my skin. It stung for a hot second, but then it subsided and I sat there stone jawed as the artist went to work. I watched whatever trashy TV show that shop had on. I noticed that this was taking forever!! I wanted it to be over. I wanted to get out of that chair. But mostly I wanted to see what it looked like. I was conveniently shielded from the mirrors that hung on the wall of the shop. All I could see were pictures of the artist’s handy work on the wall, and the aforementioned TV. The incessant buzzing was getting to me, but I knew better than to ask when it was going to be over. I wanted his best work, not a rush job.
After about 45 minutes, it was over. He put the finishing touches on and then handed me a mirror to check it out. He put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton swab and cleaned the edges. I must have looked a little disappointed so he spoke.

“It’ll get darker, it’s just brand new.”

I stared at myself for a minute trying to decide if I liked it. I saw the contrast of the colors on my skin. I decided I didn’t like it, but I couldn’t say anything at the time. Everyone else had them, but it wasn’t for me. I should have listened to Dwayne, but now it was too late. I definitely would not be getting another one of these. I paid the man, and was on my way out the shop.

My first and last baldy. What, did you think I was talking about a tattoo? LOL My barber Dwayne was right. I should have listened. I had to deal with my pale white scalp for a few days until my hair grew back in.

Black History Month: Let's Play Ball

I call these posts Black History Month because I'm Black, and these stories are my history...
Spring Valley, New York 1983

'Crrrraccck'

The sound of the baseball hitting on the wood bat excited me. I hurriedly ran to the makeshift first base, which was actually a record album, with my head down. I wasn't exactly fleet of foot, but I had major hustle. I knew something was wrong before I reached the base. The other kids scattered, running off in many different directions trying to flee the scene. The chants of "no batter, no batter" and "we want a pitcher, not a glass of water" were replaced with deafening silence, and only 8 year old Rashan remained in the courtyard. I soon realized why my cohorts had abandoned me. The shattered glass next to Mrs. Chumskly's apartment let me know that I had broken a window.

I don't really know why we were playing baseball in such a tight enclosed space. The courtyard was a patch of grass in between 2 sets of apartment buildings. I guess since we were small, we didn't think anyone would hit the ball hard enough to reach the apartments, but of course, it had to be me to do it. I couldn't even play baseball that well, but one lucky swing was about to get me in trouble. That's if anybody found out. I took my cue from my homeys, and ran away too, leaving my bat and glove outside. I went home nervous,  but hopeful that I could get away with it.

When my mom got home from work, and asked me about my day, I neglected to mention the broken window. Every time the phone rang, I was nervous that it was Mrs. Chumskly or one of my friend's parents calling to spill the beans. At one point I took the phone off the receiver in the kitchen so it would ring busy. But that didn't last long. I remember having a hard time falling asleep that night, but I made it. When I awoke and realized it was a new day, I thought I had gotten away with it. Boy, was I wrong. Turns out one of the kids snitched to his parents, who later that day snitched to my mom. When my mom came home that day and asked me about it, I said something stupid:

"Oh yeah, I forgot!"

I got in trouble, not for the window, but for the lie. At the time, I thought my mom had to pay for the window, but now as an adult, I realize that maintenance probably fixed it. I don't know how I got held solely responsible. It's not like I pitched the ball to myself. It's not like I was the only one that was playing with a baseball, instead of the tennis ball we usually used. In the future, we still used the courtyard, much to Mrs. Chumskly's dismay, but we played football or kickball. There was no way I was going to play baseball there again.

Black History Month: Diane's Sausage Balls

I call these posts "Black History Month" because I'm Black, and these stories are my history.

When I used to work at another bank, we used to have potlucks all the time. I was the manager of a team in a call center and just about everybody loved me. In addition to my team of 25, I was also de facto manager of another team of directory assistance people. You know the ones that just look up names and transfer you? Anyway, so one day my team and that team got together for a potluck. It was really disorganized. There was soul food, Mexican food, Chinese food, regular old American food. For a greedy man, it would be heaven. Well, let me take that back. I am greedy, but I’m not much for eating other people’s food. It may sound cliché, but I don’t know who’s clean and who’s not. I don’t know who cooks with their cats, or who doesn’t wash their hands after changing their baby’s diapers. People tell me to get over it, but that’s not gonna happen. Diane’s Sausage Balls were enough for me to never eat food from strangers again.

There was a woman on the DA team named Diane. She was a nice enough lady, but she looked a little less than clean. She had stringy hair that always seemed to be shedding, and her desk always had crumbs and coffee stains on it. You may think I’m judging a book by its cover, but how else am I to know if I want to read it… or to mix metaphors, if I want to eat her food. I already decided that I was not going to. Diane came into work with a silver cookie tin with what she called “Sausage Balls.” They were like meatballs, but made with ground sausage. In theory, they sound good, but considering the source, I was just not sure what else was ground up in them. I filled my plate with store bought stuff and food from people I trusted. Unfortunately Diane’s Sausage Balls didn’t quite make the cut.

Apparently everybody else was thinking the same thing too, because 3 hours later, while the rest of the food was only left with remnants, her tin of sausage balls remained virtually untouched. One of her co workers came and told me that she was crying because nobody wanted to try her food. I had a decision to make. Would I be a good manager, even though I wasn’t technically her manager, or should I stick to my guns? My mind and stomach told me that Diane would just have to get over it, but my heart (yes, I have a heart) told me that I should make her feel better by trying them. Guess which one won out? My heart! I tried Diane’s Sausage Balls, and they were pretty good. Not gourmet by any means, but they would do for a potluck. It made her day that I tried her potluck food! Once again, Rashan saved the day.

A little later, I noticed Diane wasn’t at her desk. I was supposed to stay on them to make sure they were answering the phones like they are supposed to. 5 minutes passed, then 10 with no sign of her. Then one of her co workers came to my desk.

“Diane is in the bathroom throwing up.”

WHAT?!? I didn’t care that she was sick, but I was worried about me. I ate those stupid sausage balls against my better judgment and now she got the ebola? My inner circle at work who knew what I did were dying laughing at me.

“That’s what you get for trying to be Super-Manager!”

I started sweating, and all of a sudden I felt light headed. I got up to go outside and get some air. I felt queasy, and my knees buckled a little. I stood outside while I composed myself, belly full and rumbling. I didn’t know what ailment I was getting, but I knew something was coming. I called my boss, and told her that I was leaving and why. She laughed at me. I went to my car and drove home. It was only about 5 minutes away, and I had to go. I just couldn’t stay there at home any longer waiting for the inevitable eruption. At home, I laid down, and next thing I know it was 7pm. I had been gone for 3 hours. I felt okay. I don’t know if it was psychosomatic or something real, but I do know one thing. I’ll never eat Diane’s Sausage Balls ever again!

Black History Month: The Burger King Backfire

I call these posts Black History Month because I'm Black, and these stories are my history...

When I was a senior in high school, I didn’t have a car, and my only friend with a car was on a different lunch than me. So while all the more privileged upper classman would leave for lunch, I was stuck on campus. Even back then, I didn’t eat lunch often, but every now and then I wished that someone I knew would go to Burger King and get me a whopper w/cheese combo. It was literally 2 minutes down the road, and the closest place to my high school. Alas, most days, that didn’t happen. I usually sat in the library writing my rhymes, or hanging out in the chorus room with my homeys listening to music or singing the hits of the day. But one day was different. I was gonna get some Burger King and flaunt it in the faces of them clowns who never asked if I wanted anything.

My sister was in town for Spring Break, or maybe it was Winter Break. She was going to Spelman and her boyfriend went to Morehouse. Cliché, yeah, I know. But he was a cool dude. The night before I asked him if they could bring me some food at lunch, and to my surprise, they agreed. By this time, me and my sister got along, but I was still hesitant to ask her for anything. I was excited at the prospect of having BK, while the rest of the school had tater tots. I already planned out in my mind how I was gonna answer people when they asked what I was doing for lunch. “Nah, kid. Someone is bringing me some food.” They didn’t have to know it was my sister. It could have been anyone. You know I’m a very important dude, right? I’ll pause so you can laugh at my high school delusions. I know now that nobody cared, but in my young mind, It was gonna be serious!!!

So, lunch rolls around and I see Nikki and Gary pull up in his Jeep Wrangler. I go to the car and sit down while they pass me my whopper, fries and an orange soda. They tell me they have to go, so I head back to the front entrance. I had the soda inside the bag, since I also had my rhyme book in my other hand. Made it easier to carry. This dude I know says “Yo, you got BK?” I shake my head like “yeah”, but I don’t speak any words. I’m too cool for that. I’m walking towards the chorus room and suddenly I hear “WHAP”

The soda spilled, leaked through the bag causing all my fries to go scattering and my Whopper to fall on the floor. The wrapper opened and onions and pickles smeared with ketchup littered the floor. The worst part? My doggone burger was drenched. People all around me started laughing. I tried to play it off like I didn’t care, but I was mad embarrassed. I guess that’s what I get for bragging in my head about some cheap old Burger King! My plan backfired!