I can't stand when people insist on telling me the same fucking story over and over again. But what really grinds my gears is when I tell them that they've already told to me the story and they pretend like they didn't hear me and proceed to spend another 10 to 15 minutes retelling me the same wack-ass story I didn't want to hear the first time around. I try to tell them, "you've already told me that story" in my "polite" voice so they don't waste another 10 minutes of my life, Because life is really precious, you know?
But they completely disregard me and it pisses me off like they don't care about my precious life and they want to tell me their story no matter what. Do they think if they tell me again it'll actually be funny or interesting this time and not even worse the second time around?!
Ugh!
I just came up with the perfect solution this may seem harsh but the end justifies the means. The next time a friend tries to do this to me I will simply tell them that they have two choices: they can either stop and refrain from telling me the same dumbass story again, or they can tell me the story but they must pay me for the time I have to spend listening to the same stupid ass story over and over again. Because time is money people and if you insist on telling me what I don't want to hear then the least you can do is compensate me for the time I'm wasting listening to your whack ass words.
Friends, you may find this harsh but I love you. I really do. STFU and have a good night.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Beyonce, the Heartbreaker (you've got the best of me)
I have always stayed quiet about the Beyonce hype... well, "always" is relative. But, I know a lot of people really like her- including the Obamas. And including my dear friend, Kayla, whose opinions I respect. Anyway, I wasn't surprised that Bey ripped out her heart. I kinda think that Beyonce ruins everything. The inauguration, the power grid at the Super Bowl, and the axiom for black women's looks are just a few examples. But, I tried to like her. I like "Love on Top." I don't really like much of her other solo work, but I attribute that to my general taste in music.
Anyway, back to Kayla's heart. First, she was offended that Bey named the song "Bow Down." I was not too offended because, sometimes Bey is ratchet. eg. "Ring the Alarm," chinchilla coats!?! Ok, Pimps-R-Us frequent shopper! Second, there was the cussing- especially "bitches." I was surprised at this. Bey doesn't cuss! (or didnt used to-- but today is her and Jay-Z's 5 year anniversary, and I think a lot of women's language gets more colorful during marriage). I know Bey considers herself a feminist. I also know there are a lot of ways to be feminist. She did write a song about who "Run the World," but it's (Girls), not women...hmmmm...no comment.
When I first heard the song, I thought it was nothing I would want to dance to, but I was happy that Mike Jones was working again. I had just been trying to remember his phone number and here he was! Then, I realized it's Beyonce the whole time!! I should have known because Beyonce ft. Mike Jones would've appeared on some headline. Also, sometimes she doesn't work with others. She does most of her own backup vocals and, even at the Super Bowl, she did much of her back-up dancing- with those giant screens and her video duplicates. She did allow Michelle and Kelly to make an apperance--how nostalgic *sigh*
Then -back to "Bow Down"- to exacerbate matters, Rush Limbaugh got into the mix.** Beyonce brought Rush into the media's commentary of R&B. Like I said, she ruins everything!! He interpreted her song to mean that women should bow down, know their place, and accept a good man when they have one. Oh, Rush! We already know nothing is too unimportant for him, especially when he can use it to make black people, Obama, women, or anything liberal look bad. So, it's not entirely her fault. Bey is just always in a place that has wide-reaching effects. I guess that is what super stardom and "queen-ality" is.
So, in conclusion, I am sorry to all those who have been hurt, shocked, offended, insulted by Beyonce. All I can advise is to let her have her pedestal, but to keep it in the realm of music, and *gulp* fashion. (But don't tell that to PETA. She is always angering them because she wears a lot of animals. Again, no comment)If you recognized the title from another R&B Royal... all I can say is, Bey is no Mariah! I had a vision of a pop/R&B queen and it was not what Beyonce turned out to be.
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Peter, Paul and Mary Moments
After toying around with various possibilities, I've decided it would best to just storm right into this joint, Cosmo Kramer-style. So, here goes...
My name is Del and I've been a friend of Kayla's since I thought I was straight. (Which translates to a little over 12 years.) I'm fat, black and the proud papa of the best damn dog in the world. There's more, of course, but that'll do for now.
I, and the author of this blog, have known each other since we were 17; there are virtually no secrets between us. Between dishing out sage advice, being the most beautiful woman in the world, and smacking me upside the head, Kayla invited me to contribute to "Black Girls Don't Shave Their Legs." We've have some amazing conversations over the years, and disagree as much as we see eye to eye. It is our hope that our differing, yet somehow cohesive, opinions will be of as much interest to you as we have been to each other.
Today being Sunday, I attended church services earlier this morning. (There's one more thing...I'm a Christian.) I'm usually five or ten minutes late, so I grab a seat in the back, so as not to disrupt service. Fortune smiled on me this morning, and I was able to grab a seat directly by the stairs with out making a spectacle of myself.
That's usually how I go about life; stealthily, almost squirrelly, aiming never to rock the boat too much. For reasons too numerous to list in one blog post, I have admittedly become the kind of person who aims to never really be noticed. Having social anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, and a tendency to be a misanthrope makes this pretty easy.
I think that's why I like church...it's quite literally a safe space. Especially my hippie congregation, where Peter, Paul & Mary and Bob Dylan songs are as likely to be sung as are standard hymns. We have something called "the passing of the peace," where we're forced (okay, maybe not "forced," but definitely coerced) to greet each one of our neighbors and wish them well. These sorts of things don't go over well for the too cool for school set. I should know; I used to be one of them.
There are still remnants of that cheeky, insecure college kid however. I never hang around after service, partially because there is not enough Adavan in the world to overcome the accompanying anxiety, but also because I don't make myself at least try. I had a bad experience at a church social group meeting, and haven't been to another once since; there's at least 20 of them. And, most prescient to this post, I never sing out loud during service.
I have a bad voice. I am tone deaf, possess the traces of a nasally Queens accent, and have no volume control. If you're a friend, my vociferous, unsteady baritone is an endearing quirk; if you're a foe, my voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I get it, totally. Ever since I was told to lip-sync in middle school chorus, I have never even attempted to sing in earnest.
But today, something monumental occurred. Somewhere towards the end of "If I Had A Hammer," I got caught up in what I guess what the Spirit. But not in the "get an usher, he's speaking in tongues," snake handling way. It was more like a genuine, rapturous glee. Having lost my cell phone, being passed over for a promotion and feeling unsure about my future suddenly didn't matter. I honestly almost wanted them to, because I was afraid of what would happen if I actually let myself "go." I thought the dude next to me looked ridiculous, clapping and stomping like a meth-ed up wind up toy. But by the time I was "hammering peace across this land," I was well...hammering. I sang, and I clapped, and this was new territory. I fucking sang today. And I didn't give a damn how it sounded.
So, why am I sharing this meandering, not quite anecdote as my first post? Well, because it speaks to everything that I'm "about" right now, namely progress. I'm interested in others' journeys and want to make it clear that I'm a man in search of answers, not someone who claims to have them. But also, because maybe I'm soliciting help? Feedback? Eh, I don't know. But that's the whole point, right?
My name is Del and I've been a friend of Kayla's since I thought I was straight. (Which translates to a little over 12 years.) I'm fat, black and the proud papa of the best damn dog in the world. There's more, of course, but that'll do for now.
I, and the author of this blog, have known each other since we were 17; there are virtually no secrets between us. Between dishing out sage advice, being the most beautiful woman in the world, and smacking me upside the head, Kayla invited me to contribute to "Black Girls Don't Shave Their Legs." We've have some amazing conversations over the years, and disagree as much as we see eye to eye. It is our hope that our differing, yet somehow cohesive, opinions will be of as much interest to you as we have been to each other.
Today being Sunday, I attended church services earlier this morning. (There's one more thing...I'm a Christian.) I'm usually five or ten minutes late, so I grab a seat in the back, so as not to disrupt service. Fortune smiled on me this morning, and I was able to grab a seat directly by the stairs with out making a spectacle of myself.
That's usually how I go about life; stealthily, almost squirrelly, aiming never to rock the boat too much. For reasons too numerous to list in one blog post, I have admittedly become the kind of person who aims to never really be noticed. Having social anxiety disorder, major depressive disorder, and a tendency to be a misanthrope makes this pretty easy.
I think that's why I like church...it's quite literally a safe space. Especially my hippie congregation, where Peter, Paul & Mary and Bob Dylan songs are as likely to be sung as are standard hymns. We have something called "the passing of the peace," where we're forced (okay, maybe not "forced," but definitely coerced) to greet each one of our neighbors and wish them well. These sorts of things don't go over well for the too cool for school set. I should know; I used to be one of them.
There are still remnants of that cheeky, insecure college kid however. I never hang around after service, partially because there is not enough Adavan in the world to overcome the accompanying anxiety, but also because I don't make myself at least try. I had a bad experience at a church social group meeting, and haven't been to another once since; there's at least 20 of them. And, most prescient to this post, I never sing out loud during service.
I have a bad voice. I am tone deaf, possess the traces of a nasally Queens accent, and have no volume control. If you're a friend, my vociferous, unsteady baritone is an endearing quirk; if you're a foe, my voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I get it, totally. Ever since I was told to lip-sync in middle school chorus, I have never even attempted to sing in earnest.
But today, something monumental occurred. Somewhere towards the end of "If I Had A Hammer," I got caught up in what I guess what the Spirit. But not in the "get an usher, he's speaking in tongues," snake handling way. It was more like a genuine, rapturous glee. Having lost my cell phone, being passed over for a promotion and feeling unsure about my future suddenly didn't matter. I honestly almost wanted them to, because I was afraid of what would happen if I actually let myself "go." I thought the dude next to me looked ridiculous, clapping and stomping like a meth-ed up wind up toy. But by the time I was "hammering peace across this land," I was well...hammering. I sang, and I clapped, and this was new territory. I fucking sang today. And I didn't give a damn how it sounded.
So, why am I sharing this meandering, not quite anecdote as my first post? Well, because it speaks to everything that I'm "about" right now, namely progress. I'm interested in others' journeys and want to make it clear that I'm a man in search of answers, not someone who claims to have them. But also, because maybe I'm soliciting help? Feedback? Eh, I don't know. But that's the whole point, right?
Monday, March 18, 2013
Tonight, Beyonce Shattered my Heart
"I've got drafts written for this very blog extolling this bitch as the post-modern feminist and she pulls THIS SHIT?! Now I can't even publish the shit."
OK. OK. Let me rewind. I'm Sorry. I'm gonna try to make this coherent and succinct but its going to be hard as BEYONCE JUST SHATTERED MY FUCKING WORLD!
Oh, expletive warning y'all. My emotions are running high.
I don't have the time or the emotional wherewithal to explain to you just how much I loved Beyonce. I don't have the time to explain that I was very sure about my love because she had to work hard to earn since I hated her for a while (see, I can't even write proper sentences cause my stomach is upset and I feel like I might have a stroke).
I'm trying to explain to you how earth-shattering this is for me. I want to make sure you know that I loved Beyonce fiercely for some concrete reasons. I loved her level of innovation as a musician. Her talent as a vocalist. I loved her work ethic, her classic appeal. I loved her commitment to performing and doing it well. I loved her strength as a woman. I consider myself a feminist and I LOVE women who lift up other women. One of the reasons I loved Beyonce is because I felt she did this in her own way.
Well who the fuck told me to scroll down my damn Facebook newsfeed tonight? I don't know why I did it. I was getting ready to go to bed. I wasn't even prepared to have my world rocked like this. But, lo and behold, I'm scrolling down my newsfeed and I see this:
So I'm like, WTF? The Beyonce I love wouldn't say something so brazenly obnoxious. Yes, she gets a little playful with her banter sometimes but, "bow down?" I was immediately offended.
Little did I know, this was just the tip of the iceberg! Then, I discovered the song. Please try to listen to the whole thing. I know its hard. (Note to Beyonce, if you're going to make an obnoxious, disrespectful song, at least make it sound good!):
SIGH.
I am beyond disappointed. I've been fiercely defending this woman for years and she makes me look like an idiot with this shit!? This goes against everything I stand for as a woman. I cannot be who I am and continue to love and support an artist that thinks this shit is OK. I don't know what happened to her brain but she was way off with this. I know she's trying to push the envelope and break out of this image the world has of her but I happen to like the classic Beyonce. The woman who left it all on the stage. Who didn't care if people thought she was boring and simple because she consistently killed it in the studio and in concert. The Beyonce I love wouldn't stoop to the level of addressing her haters this way because she would know it's not worth losing the self-respecting fans she has who don't give a fuck about her struggle to be "relevant." The Beyonce I love let her music speak for her, not the other way around. If I wanted to listen to another record calling me a bitch, I would just turn on the hip-hop station.
Why does Beyonce think her fans want her to be Rihanna?! Why did she take it there? Clearly, we know you are an amazingly talented person but did Michael Jackson ever release a record like this? No! He went as far as "Bad" and that's it. Maybe "Leave me Alone" but he made it clear who he was talking to (the papparazzi).
Why Bey! Why?!
I have to stop here. I'm starting to ramble.
More later. I have to pull myself together somewhat.
OK. OK. Let me rewind. I'm Sorry. I'm gonna try to make this coherent and succinct but its going to be hard as BEYONCE JUST SHATTERED MY FUCKING WORLD!
Oh, expletive warning y'all. My emotions are running high.
I don't have the time or the emotional wherewithal to explain to you just how much I loved Beyonce. I don't have the time to explain that I was very sure about my love because she had to work hard to earn since I hated her for a while (see, I can't even write proper sentences cause my stomach is upset and I feel like I might have a stroke).
I'm trying to explain to you how earth-shattering this is for me. I want to make sure you know that I loved Beyonce fiercely for some concrete reasons. I loved her level of innovation as a musician. Her talent as a vocalist. I loved her work ethic, her classic appeal. I loved her commitment to performing and doing it well. I loved her strength as a woman. I consider myself a feminist and I LOVE women who lift up other women. One of the reasons I loved Beyonce is because I felt she did this in her own way.
Well who the fuck told me to scroll down my damn Facebook newsfeed tonight? I don't know why I did it. I was getting ready to go to bed. I wasn't even prepared to have my world rocked like this. But, lo and behold, I'm scrolling down my newsfeed and I see this:
So I'm like, WTF? The Beyonce I love wouldn't say something so brazenly obnoxious. Yes, she gets a little playful with her banter sometimes but, "bow down?" I was immediately offended.
Little did I know, this was just the tip of the iceberg! Then, I discovered the song. Please try to listen to the whole thing. I know its hard. (Note to Beyonce, if you're going to make an obnoxious, disrespectful song, at least make it sound good!):
SIGH.
I am beyond disappointed. I've been fiercely defending this woman for years and she makes me look like an idiot with this shit!? This goes against everything I stand for as a woman. I cannot be who I am and continue to love and support an artist that thinks this shit is OK. I don't know what happened to her brain but she was way off with this. I know she's trying to push the envelope and break out of this image the world has of her but I happen to like the classic Beyonce. The woman who left it all on the stage. Who didn't care if people thought she was boring and simple because she consistently killed it in the studio and in concert. The Beyonce I love wouldn't stoop to the level of addressing her haters this way because she would know it's not worth losing the self-respecting fans she has who don't give a fuck about her struggle to be "relevant." The Beyonce I love let her music speak for her, not the other way around. If I wanted to listen to another record calling me a bitch, I would just turn on the hip-hop station.
Why does Beyonce think her fans want her to be Rihanna?! Why did she take it there? Clearly, we know you are an amazingly talented person but did Michael Jackson ever release a record like this? No! He went as far as "Bad" and that's it. Maybe "Leave me Alone" but he made it clear who he was talking to (the papparazzi).
Why Bey! Why?!
I have to stop here. I'm starting to ramble.
More later. I have to pull myself together somewhat.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Neda Soltani and the failure of modern-day journalism
Just heard a story on NPR about Neda Soltani, an Iranian woman who is now a political exile because the media mistakenly used her Facebook photo to represent a dead political activist with a similar name. The whole story is unbelievable, terribly sad and eerie (we have the same exact DOB). But what is really powerful to me is how shitty and inept the press has become. This woman sent the proper information to several news outlets, including CNN and they completely ignored it. She sent another news agency a different photo of herself to further prove the error and they published it as a new exclusive pic of the dead girl! Listen to the story here:
There are no more journalists. The media has been failing us for quite some time. They don't even deserve the benefit of the doubt. We're going to have to start fact-checking the news ourselves.
When the kids got killed in Newtown, CT, a number of major news outlets reported completely inaccurate information in their rush to get the story out first. What the hell is the point of the news if it's wrong?! I could just ask Pookie down the block for the scoop if I want some "He said, She said."
It's just a damn shame...
There are no more journalists. The media has been failing us for quite some time. They don't even deserve the benefit of the doubt. We're going to have to start fact-checking the news ourselves.
When the kids got killed in Newtown, CT, a number of major news outlets reported completely inaccurate information in their rush to get the story out first. What the hell is the point of the news if it's wrong?! I could just ask Pookie down the block for the scoop if I want some "He said, She said."
It's just a damn shame...
I have watched myself become mean and ornery. I have caught glimpses of the trajectory my life could take if I stay on this path of misery and bitterness. I will be mean and alone. Right now, I'm alone by choice because I don't feel like being around people. But one day, I'm gonna be alone because nobody wants to be around my miserable negative ass. It's gonna be like, "Oh Kayla? I can only take her in doses." And forget about a relationship with a man! Can you imagine? I won't be able to coexist and compromise with a man for the sake of a happy relationship. I'll just be an angry bitch who would rather be by herself than deal with the occasional inconvenience of a man's presence.
I know women like this. And with no disrespect to them, I'm not trying to be that person. But damn, I can sure as hell see how easy it is to get to that place. It's much easier to become bitter and jaded than to get up and try to be happy everyday. It's almost more natural too. I mean, think about it. What kind of idiot gets knocked down and keeps getting back up only to be knocked down again? How long does a person continue to do that before giving up?
I'm still fighting the good fight to stay engaged and hopeful but acknowledging that it's hard as hell!
I know women like this. And with no disrespect to them, I'm not trying to be that person. But damn, I can sure as hell see how easy it is to get to that place. It's much easier to become bitter and jaded than to get up and try to be happy everyday. It's almost more natural too. I mean, think about it. What kind of idiot gets knocked down and keeps getting back up only to be knocked down again? How long does a person continue to do that before giving up?
I'm still fighting the good fight to stay engaged and hopeful but acknowledging that it's hard as hell!
I know a woman...
I know a woman who is constantly complimented on how amazing she is. Everywhere she goes people are attracted to her. And they tell her that it's not just her looks, it's the complete package. Her swag, if you will. (oh, you won't? my bad) But in spite of all that, she still allows herself to be drawn in by selfish losers who only want her for the residual awesomeness that surrounds her. Her mother says, they are pimping her for her blessings. She thought that was funny and poignant.
She is working on knowing her worth and surrounding herself with people who contribute just as much as they take.
She is working on knowing her worth and surrounding herself with people who contribute just as much as they take.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Just in case You forgot...
Dear God, I know we haven't discussed this in a while but I am still interested in finding a good man. I am being patient but I just wanted to make sure you know I'm still waiting. By the way, if you send me a white man could he please be just like Robert Redford in "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid"? If he is black, could he be just like Denzel Washington. I know, God. I know I'm asking for a lot but have you seen Denzel Washington walk lately?! Oh yeah. You made him. Well then you know! It's just not fair for you to expect me to want anything less when I've seen Denzel Washington walk, talk, or just exist!
*sigh*
Like the chutney song says "I gon' be single forevaaaa"
*sigh*
Like the chutney song says "I gon' be single forevaaaa"
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Romney's 47% 'Clean-Up' Press Conference - YouTube
I am thoroughly enjoying listening to Mitt Romney trip all over himself pretending to give a fuck. I must admit, he doesn't seem to be trying very hard. I guess he really isn't trying to appeal to that 47%.
Lots of people are upset but I can't summon up the energy for that. I did let out a little gasp when I first read the quote but that was about it. If you haven't heard the controversy: http://www.motherjones.com/politics/2012/09/secret-video-romney-private-fundraiser
I should note that barely anything in politics pisses me off these days. These people are all ridiculous and I'm too busy oscillating between trying to eat (and stay alive in general) and wondering "what the hell am I living for?" So yeah, not much time to give a crap about who is going to further mess up my life or keep it at its present miserable level.
That being said, I am kind of annoyed by Romney's whole casual "these people don't pay taxes" bullshit. I pay more taxes than he does (percentage-wise, obvi) and this economy is killing me! I'm over here racking my brain trying to see how I can pay rent and a car note on my salary. I'm over here brainstorming possible second jobs while fully aware that, if I am working for all of my waking hours, there is really no purpose to living. Simply put: I'm not living large off of the government. For him to say that Obama supporters don't care about his "low taxes message" because they don't pay taxes pisses me off. There's nothing I want more than more money in my pocket right about now.
Oh wait, there is. I want to live in a country not totally run by assholes who are so past racism and elitism that they don't even care about me enough to hate me. They don't even see me. They don't even try to make me think they care about me.
BTW, PLEASE don't be naive. This foolishness isn't going to hinder not ONE would-be Romney supporter. They're not voting for him cause he's a great guy.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
FML
I knew there was a reason I didn't want to go to work today (besides the usual). As soon as I walk out my building, some prick cabbie speeds directly into a puddle, spewing dirty street water all over my freshly washed body and clothes. As I stand there in horror, another cabbie pretends to be my knight in shining armor and coaxes me to get in only to cuss me and kick me out a block later because I wouldn't pay the exorbitant rate he quoted me. I walk the rest of the way to work and consider running the last block or so since I'm borderline late but then decide against it when I see a man staring me down, poised and ready to study the jiggle of my ass when I run by him. I settle for walking briskly and I arrive to work one minute late, pissed off with dirty, wet water on my nether-regions. My job penalizes me for arriving to work even a minute late so this is particularly vexing to me. I never say this, but FUCK MY LIFE. I knew I shoulda slept through this shitty day.
Side note: I thought FML stood for "Family Medical Leave" but then I figured it out. I didn't even have to ask my teenage brother to translate.
Side note: I thought FML stood for "Family Medical Leave" but then I figured it out. I didn't even have to ask my teenage brother to translate.
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