Le Faux Jameil

I have a fake Jameil working at my office. I first met Le Faux Jameil sometime earlier this year. I was training a new hire class at the time. It was weird, because I had never met another person named Jameil before, although Le Faux Jameil spells it a little different. It's still pronounced the same way. When we met, I remember telling Le Faux Jameil about my girlfriend with the same name and being taken aback by the response.

"I bet she ain't as cute as me."

WRONG!!! Anyway, unwanted flirtatiousness aside, Le Faux Jameil was annoying, never paying attention in class. I would often observe Le Faux Jameil manicuring nails with a fingernail file, rather than learning. It had been awhile since I had met somebody so wrapped up in their appearance with so little reason. LFJ was constantly applying this strawberry scented lotion, and was always smoothing down freshly arched eyebrows. One day, Le Faux Jameil was wearing a head scarf in class. When I asked why, I got the following response.

"I don't wanna mess up my hair before I go to the club tonight!"

I couldn't even say anything. If that's how you want to do it, far be it for me to try to stop you. Another day, LFJ came to work wearing this black coat from Express. How did I know that's where it's from? Because I had gotten The Real Jameil the same coat for Christmas.

"Yo, I got my girl that same coat for Christmas!" I told a fellow trainer that day after class.

"You better not say anything. You know Le Faux Jameil is digging you. Might take it as a sign that you are meant to be together"

"See.. you ain't even right. LFJ ain't thinking about me."

I was just trying to play it off. The last thing I needed was another coworker trying to get at me. I've had more than my share of that. Especially one with the same name and clothes as my girl. I wasn't trying to be part of no "Single Black Female" joint. But for the rest of the class, I tried to avoid eye contact with LFJ as much as possible. Better safe than sorry. After training was over, I would occasionally see, and subsequently avoid Le Faux Jameil. But without fail, I would.

"Heeeey, Rah-shan!'

Nobody calls me by real name at work. I'm always Shawn, or Ruh-shan, or Rashad. But Le Faux Jameil did. I would always be polite, but try to end the conversation real quick. I wanted no parts of encouraging anyone. The other day, I was walking by LFJ's desk and saw a picture...of LFJ! Word up, I wish I could take a picture of this mess. LFJ is topless (tastefully) with the "me so sexy face" on. Who puts pictures like that of themselves on their own desk at work? And why does everybody think they can model? Ish just looks ridiculous.

Oh, I forgot to tell you. Le Faux Jameil... is a dude! Only in Atlanta.

I Crack Myself Up

 You know what? I crack myself up. I was supposed to be writing a new post but I some how got distracted reading my old blog. I'm a funny mother hubbard (as my mom once said instead of quoting the mf word.) We'll call this my lazy post of the week. Jameil and Diva, I know you've already read these, so just go ahead and tell me how wack I am for posting links (even though you may or may not have posted a video and/or recipe as your Wednesday post. LOL) After all, the blog is titled "Rashan Revisited" so go ahead and revisit those links. At the very least, I've given you one less blog to read today. LOL

http://rashansbeatsrhymesandlife.blogspot.com/2008/08/masterpiece-theatre-not.html


http://rashansbeatsrhymesandlife.blogspot.com/2007/11/swagger.html


http://rashansbeatsrhymesandlife.blogspot.com/2008/12/open-letter-to-president-elect-obama.html

http://rashansbeatsrhymesandlife.blogspot.com/2008/09/peoples-court.html

http://rashansbeatsrhymesandlife.blogspot.com/2008/01/bet-presidential-debate-08-part-2.html

Backlash*

*I'm just thinking out loud. No need to be worried about me.

One of the drawbacks of having a strong opinion is that people don’t like people with strong opinions. It seems to happen to me at all my jobs. I go from being the quiet one, to the golden boy, to the uppity problematic negro. I don’t necessarily know why it keeps happening. I don’t think I’m changing that much, but invariably at some point in my employment, there comes a backlash.




I think I’ve reached that point in my current job. Without going into too much detail, it seems that lately I can’t do anything right. Whereas it used to be appreciated when I spoke up, now it’s like please stay in your lane. Where management used to seek me out to get the pulse of the other associates, not it’s like my input is the last thing they want to hear. And it’s not like I’m overreacting. I gave that some thought, and no that’s not it. I’ve tried the aggressive approach, I’ve tried the political correct approach, I’ve spoken up in meetings to no avail. I’ve written intentionally soft emails to no avail. I keep getting the same responses: Thank you for your input, but we’re not going to actually listen to you. Sometimes, they are defensive that I actually had the gall to question them, and sometimes they are downright rude. I mean cutting me off in mid sentence or responding in a snarky manner in email. It sucks.



There’s the backlash. It always seems to hit me. I’m a laid back person, and I don’t really understand how I can go from hero to goat so quickly. I need a new job like yesterday. I don’t like being in a bad mood when I come home from work. I don’t like even giving this place a second thought after I leave the parking lot. And I sure don’t get paid enough to be stressed out. Maybe I’ll try to be just a mindless drone and see if that works. Yeah, that probably won’t do. One thing I’m not willing to compromise is my opinion.

Birthday Boring

I’ve become birthday boring. I have less than 10 days to the blessed event and to be honest, I don’t really care. I was way more excited with a month to go than I am now. I don’t have any set in stone plans, and I am not actively seeking any. It’s a big one, you only turn 35 once, right? So, why don’t I really care if I stay at home and do nothing. I had grandiose plans of having a big time party. One where I would invite my co workers, my associates, and any bloggers that happened to be in the area. I was going to be mad liquored up, drunk dancing, picture taking, maybe even stripper tipping. But now, ehhh?

I get like this every year as my birthday approaches. It’s not like I’m depressed, its just a sense of apathy takes over. In my mind I think, my birthday is so close to Thanksgiving, that everybody will be with their families. Or if they aren’t do I really want to hang out with them? And if I do, then what do I do? Go to a club? Nah, I’m not a clubbing type. I already got my club quota out of my system on New Years. Do I have a house party? Nah, I don’t want all them people up in my space. There are very few people that actually know where I live and I’d like to keep it that way. Go on a trip? Yeah, that sounds good, but I’m going to have to be in Savannah at least the day after anyway, so that’s out.

So, then what? I guess I’ll just be birthday boring. No need for parties, or revelry. Just me and the people that I’m close to and I’ll be fine. It’s not most people’s ideal birthday, but it works for me. I’m already one up on the last 5 years since I already have a birthday gift. I don’t need much more. Well, maybe just a drink or three.

Hunger

For most of my life, I've not really experienced hunger. I usually go from full to starving. That level of being hungry usually escapes me. As a result, I typically don't eat breakfast, don't each lunch, but eat a big dinner. I know what you are going to say. That's not good. It's bad for my metabolism, bad for me. I know you were going to say that because people have been telling me that for years. Girlfriends have tried to break me out of this one time a day eating thing without much success. Jameil has been trying to change that since the beginning of our relationship to no avail. I just don't get hungry and when I'm not hungry I don't eat. It's not something I do intentionally. It just works out that way.

Fast forward to this week. Yo, I've been hungry way more often this week than usual. In the middle of the day, I've been wanting to eat. I hate eating at work because it gives me the itis, but not this week. I ate lunch 3 out the 4 days I worked this week. And Saturday, I ate 3 times. That's virtually unheard of unless someone is cooking for me. Right now, I'm hungry, but I don't have anything to eat, and I can't leave until the Falcon's game is over. I don't know if I like this new trend. It's going to seriously impact my grocery store budget. If I'm going to eat more often I need to make sure that doesn't make me go get fast food all the time. But if it makes me healthier I'm good with that. And as an added bonus, maybe one day soon Jameil will get to stop asking "what did you eat today?"

Feet

My feet are disgusting. Not in a stinky, smelly way, but in a horribly white, dry skin, thick nasty curved toenail way. I should probably be embarrassed to write that sentence but I'm not. It's just a fact of life. And it's not like I plan on wearing sandals or frolicking barefoot in the grass anytime soon. Most of the time I don't even think about my feet until I go to cut my nails. That's what I did this morning.

My big toenails don't grow straight and are extremely difficult to cut. There's no cutting evenly with these things. One side is down low, the other side up high. It looks like Bobby Brown's haircut in the "Every Little Step" video.  My little toenails are long and rubbery and equally as difficult to cut. On top of that, they are like one big cuticle. It's really strange and ugly. I should probably get a pedicure one day, but I doubt that'll happen. I think that I would need a pre-pedicure pedicure. (BTW, I've wrapped my head around men getting manicures, but pedicures still seems a little ghey. LOL) I can imagine the scene if I went to the local nail shop around the corner from my crib..

Me: Hey, I need to get a pedicure.
Vietnamese Nail Lady: Come, sit down. Take off shoes.
Me: Okay.
Nail: What that? Those not normal feet. You in accident?
Me: Yeah, they are kinda  messed up.
Nail Lady: (in native language) - Hey everybody look at this black guys feet!!! They look like eagle talons.
Me: What did you say? (other nail techs start gathering and pointing.)
Nail: Oh, nothing. (in native language) He look like his foot died.
Me: For real, what are you saying?
Nail: I have to get industrial strength nail clipper.And vat of acid. and Hazmat suit... (sound of chainsaw in background...)

Okay, by now you all know my imagination runs away with me. I just don't really want strangers touching my feet. Scratch that, I don't want anybody touching my feet. I'm fully aware of how gross they look, and I don't need to see that look of apprehension. You know the look that looks like you just smelled spoiled milk, or saw some roadkill on the highway. That's what the sseing Rashan's toenails face looks like. LOL But today, I soaked my feet, sloughed off some dead skin and managed to cut my toenails. I then put some olive oil on them to moisturize and soften them. I don't expect them to look good, but I'm settling for not frightening. I wish I could say I was going to keep this up, but yeah, that's not gonna happen.

A Post To Make The Ladies Mad

Can you do me a small teensy weeny favor? Stop talking about your menstrual cycles. I don't want to know about it. I don't mean to sound insensitive, but why do strangers need to know about your cramps? I'm not saying suck it up, but I am saying, keep that between you and your immediate family. I can't tell you how many times I've seen stuff about uteruii (I think that should be the plural of uterus) on peoples blogs, twitter, and facebook. I can't tell you how many times at work we'll be having a normal conversation and then some woman changes the subject to her cramps. Come on! Men are around. We don't want to hear all that. It's bad enough that we have deal with the ladies in our lives, can you people who don't really know me spare me the details of your heavy flow days? I know it's necessary for babies and stuff, but can't we just pretend that they come from the stork? Do I have to know the science behind it? 51% of this country are female. Isn't that enough of a group to comiserate with? Can't you trade your period war stories without involving men? Do I tell you about all my bodily functions? Do you hear me talking about my vans deferens? You wanna hear about what comes out of my body? I didn't think so. In conclusion...stop talking about that in mixed company please. Thanks in advance.