Thursday, July 29, 2010

I Break Stuff

Yes, I do. And not exactly on purpose. I mean, WTF would anybody break on purpose? Can't think of anything at the moment. But, as a matter of fact, if there was even such a thing, I would find it, stand next to it and tell people, "Hey! Don't break that!" and then trip over something, knocking over something else, that eventually crashes into the thing that people break on purpose, breaking it on accident.

That's the way it works, its very difficult to quietly break shit on accident when you're like me. Nope when you're like me. If anything breaks around you, it's going to be equal parts embarrassing and intricate. You don't just trip over electrical chords. You fall over them, sending piles of electrical appliances plummeting to the earth, possibly ripping/staining an item of clothing in the process. And sadly, I know this very well because, you see, the thing is... I am a clumsy person. And although this seems to be getting increasingly popular these days (I'm serious, it seems like every bastard on 2 legs wants to claim my affliction lately. And all I'm trying to say is... "Its not cool you a-holes!!!" When you can accidentally turn a sno-cone into a car accident... And not be inside the Ford Taurus, well, then you would be more than capable of knowing my true pain. Otherwise, stop it. You clumsy posers make me sick.)

This is a real affliction people! Seriously, (mostly) growing up it hurt watching all you callous jerks laugh your asses off @ Steve Urkel as he went through his weekly social ostracization on my tv screen. Because inside (wait for it), while everyone laughed their Karl Kani and Fubu T-shirts off, I sat among them thinking "forgive them brother, they know not what they do"... Yikes, perhaps that analogy was a little to heavy handed (jeez man, I'm saying though, be easy with jc references... And of all the people to compare you choose Steve Urkel? SMH, sir - followed a by long belabored sigh) Now, (that I'm totally overusing parentheses) dear reader, you may say to urself, "self did Mr. Et Cetera really just make a christ analogy using a TGIF sitcom? And then argue about it with himself inthe third person..." Well... yes I did, actually, & hopefully you didn't really go through that much exposition contemplating it, and if you did, well consider yourself side-eyed. Weirdo.

Honestly though, I am deathly afraid of holding babies, glass objects and expensive electronics (in that order). There is honestly no thought more horrifying than someone having the totally irresponsible, brazen audacity to put one of those fragile little crumbsnatchers into my awaiting left and right arms, better known to most as death and destruction (ok, maybe not most... Ok, ok maybe only I call them that, but trust me - it's gonna catch on, possibly).

And why do babies have to be so damn small and fragile? You know baby giraffes damn near take off running after sliding outta big mama giraffes? You know what human babies do? That was a trick question, babies don't do anything. Not anything I wanna see anyway. And now you want me to hold that little vomit grenade? No thanks, I'll be late for that.
Why would someone do that to me? Because people are jerks that's why. No consideration.

Two things. When I was a kid I played little league baseball. And do you know what position I played? Of course you don't because I'm about to tell u right now. I played right field. Right field, or as my coach so cleverly named it, "go stand over there". Why was I over there? Because I couldn't catch a Effin' thing. Literally. Flying thing, falling thing, no things were getting caught, none of them. And thankfully, because I was in right field, (and because most 3rd graders have the unholy strength of a small kitten) most hits never really got any further than 1st base. So, consequently, I came to develop this odd understanding that playing outfield wasn't really done right until I had found at least 1 four-leaf clover. And of course it had to be done while singing, my then always inspirational, and somehow, seemingly endless library of cartoon theme songs. (You'd be surprised how much time can pass singing a personal, symphony-concerto rendition of Darkwing Duck) and then it happened (cue ominous music) I'll never forget it, one bright cloudless hot-ass Saturday morning, after we somehow managed to get the opposing team "out" three times, we were going into the dugout to get ready to bat. I tripped going into the dugout, falling forward (and down) onto all my teammates. Desperately trying to recapture my balance, I let go of (kinda threw) my bat and helmet to better catch myself. Before I knew what was happening, my helmet is flying through the air while my bat rolls off in front of me, nowhere to be seen. The helmet tragically hits my coach in square in the face, splitting his lip and busting his nose wide open (yea, definitely more like a throw). The hit knocks him into my next coach who tears his ACL slipping on my now easy to see rolling bat (which was crazy, I mean first of all, it would be years before I even knew what the hell an ACL was, and also what?!! Yes that really happened, and needless to say, after that, I definitely wasn't a favorite with the coaching circle anymore - sorry coach. Not like ever was anyway).

Did I do that?

And besides, really though... he really was not that good of a guy (actually, now that I think of it, Eff you coach McKullum). He was definitely a dick, I remember he used to tell us in practice, "if u boys ever wanna win anything in life, you have to work harder than a Mexican! Especially you Mexicans!" (Side note: Dear "The Great American Pass-Time" thanks for all the memories!) And Yes, in case u were wondering, we did have Mexican kids on our team (shout out to the homey Victor!!!). So yes, its a hard life when your clumsy. Apparently, you are doomed to suck at little league baseball, cripple old men, and injure small babies (not that I did, the babies part I mean, of course I didn't. Why? What have u heard?). Still, it's not that bad though, and after a while you kinda get used to your uncanny powers. I just wish there was someway to use them for good.

Anyhow, thanks for reading. Sorry about being away so long, I had to go close up an oil spill in the gulf... Perhaps you've heard of it? Anyhow, any other clumsy veterans out there? Its ok to raise your hand, your among friends. Also, one last thing before I go, I do not think I'm Big Meech, just in case you were wondering.

P.S. "Closing up a spill in the gulf" is code for "Drinking copious amounts of hard liquor while swearing to put up a post in the morning - for two weeks" (Larry Hoover).

Also, it was only one thing... made ya' look!

Sunday, July 25, 2010

The Hardest Part of Breaking Up...

Maybe I'm love sick, maybe I'm sick of love.

Or maybe I just finished watching 500 Days of Summer and I'm feeling some sort of way right now. (If you haven't seen the movie, see it. It features Joseph Gordon-Levitt who was the shiznit in Inception).

Either way, I'm sick. And now I will infect you all. (Poor choice of words, sorry.)

It has come to my attention that the hardest part of breaking up is getting back your stuff. That is in fact a song by 2Ge+her. Actually, the hardest part of breaking up is really breaking up. Without delving into my very dark and mysterious past, I would like to outline some "break up" situations that some people you know, or maybe even you have been in.

The 1,2,3 Break Up

This is the classic break up that if you've ever been in love, you will know what I mean. It's the break up that is not really official until after the third time you break up. The first time you break up it's because of frustration, some mistake that he or she makes gets you upset that you make this rash "decision". But it's not a decision at all because 2 days later, you guys are back together. The second break up happens because you two are probably fed up with each other and have grown complacent in your fights and bickering. After this break up, the only thing that will bring you back together is the fact that you don't know what else to do. Sad truth is that your both hurt and just want to be there for each other. (This is where you go awwwww). This is the unexpected break up. The third break up is the last straw. The "damn, we can't keep breaking up and getting back together, this is ridiculous". After this one, its over, for real. If its not, then you have just entered the 'Count in Break Up" (1, 2, 3, 4..)

It's Not You, It's Me Break Up

C'mon, we've all been on one side of this break up at some point. This break up comes like the end of a bad dream. You don't really know how you got to this point but you know it's time for it to end. But, your significant other hasn't given you any reason to break up. They've been nice, caring, considerate, passionate but they are missing that one thing. The "I want to stay with you" factor. So, you say those infamous words..."it's not you babe, it's me" and boom, instant break up right...WRONG. This break up usually leaves the dumped party confused, angry and in a very bad scenarios, a stalker.

The Break

By far my least favorite of the break ups. This is more or less the pussy version of breaking up if you will for a couple of reasons. For one, what the fuck is a break? It's like the nice version of saying "I've been thinking about breaking up with you for a while. I even talked to my friends who told me I should break up with you. But I haven't found someone to replace you with yet so I need to keep you off the market while I see what's up."

Or it's saying "I'm so pissed at whatever it is you did right now that I don't want to be with you. But I'm sure I'll be over it in a couple of days so I just want to make you nervous right now."

A break is a timeout from a relationship. But when you take a timeout, you know you’re coming back, so a break would seem redundant now wouldn’t it. “Let’s break up for a couple of days and get back together.” But why the fuck would we “break” if the point was to stay together. That’s like not talking for a little while. We should just do that, stop talking. I’ve never seen the NY Football Giants take a timeout and decide “fuck this game, I’m out.”

The Fallout Break Up

This one is the simplest break up of them all. Usually, one party does something so unforgiving that…you can’t forgive them. And you both realize that you’re just hurting each other and you decide to fuck off before you both fucking kill each other.

So, the moral of the story is that we will all end up alone and die, right, NO. That is not the moral of this story. The moral is, there isn’t any moral. You will probably find yourself in one of these situations, and you will probably be hurt. I guess the moral is don’t string bad relationships along.

The problem is that great relationships and bad relationships will both have heartache and turmoil and the only way to differentiate between the two is to explore it, get your heart broken and hopefully find someone who won’t break it anymore…on purpose at least.

Break up to make up is a song, a very good song. It's only good once in a while though. Start hearing it too much and you might get sick of it...get it.

Oh, Inception was DA BOMB DIGGIDY.

Monday, July 12, 2010


***Short and DOPE POST***

So, I woke up Sunday morning with one thought...

"FUCK, its almost Monday"

This thought alone was enough for me to wake my ass up and go to church and as always, I began to think..."why does Monday get such a bad wrap?"

I mean think about it, everyone always talks about how much Mondays suck, how they hate Mondays, how Mondays are the day from hell and none of this seems exactly fair. Like, what the fuck did Monday do. I don't know about you all but going to work on Wednesday is no more fun than Monday unless of course there are cup cakes on Wednesday because then, well....Mondays would suck compared to Cup Cake Wednesdays.

So as you all embark on your Magnificent Monday journey's keep in mind that Monday can actually be the best day of the week if you let it.

Question: What's your favorite day of the week? Besides the weekends.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010


As i sit here sweating profusely into my black socks and leather desk chair ( don't ask... Let's just say my furniture is less than "summer friendly" in fact, it's actually mostly "summer hot-as-fuck-ALL-THE-TIME" which was quite popular before I moved into this apartment for some reason back in DECEMBER! Here is the part where you imagine me kicking myself furiously, And. Scene) I say to myself, "Self, what will the topic be today?" Well, after receiving no reply or justification for referring to myself in the third person. I am left with the most current thought that springs to mind.

G. Y. H. A. O. M.

This one is going to be short and sweet dope fiends. The concept is not to hard to grasp, yet incredibly foreign to some of you lady types. So we will make it simple.

1. Contrary to some ill-gotten idea you dreamed up, I am not sweating underneath you because of anxiety or physical exhaustion. Listen we aren't doing anything but laying around watching tv. Sexual relations were exed out of the equation as soon as I walked into this tropical rain forest you call an apartment. So, please realize that I am only sweating because the sun has turned your apartment into a 2010 EasyBake Oven. Ma'am seriously, GET. YOUR. HOT. ASS. OFF. ME.

your apartment

2. It is 11pm and its 97 degrees outside, and 98.6 degrees IN YOUR MOUTH! Why are you all up in my face right now?

3. That fan AINT. DOING. SHIT. Seriously.

4. Did you really just get under some covers? (Sigh and a half) Maam, it is Blazing Hip Hop and R&B in here (shout out to @kamarichelsea TPG up!) you might have to let go of that "Are you afraid of the dark" sensation, and come out those covers. Unless you want to find out how it feels to have a heat stroke.

5. Is there a reason why you use your air conditioner like it's the last wish in the lamp? I'm pretty sure turning that thing on for a couple hours will not send you to the poor house. Besides it feels like Satan is tap dancing on the door knob in here.

6. I was serious about that fan (sigh).... see number 3.

And trust me, I like to snuggle up as much as the next non-snugglephobe... but this summer heat wave has quickly given me a change of heart. And, until the Fire Nation stops attacking my bedroom, you guys might as well consider me the Grinch Who Stole Snuggling. That's all I got.

Also, Airbender sucked.


Sunday, July 4, 2010

I am not my hair, or somethin' like that

Dopes and dopettes,

I have a small, small confession to make. I am KICK-ASS!

No, I'm not KICK-ASS, although that would be fuckin' awesome. You should all probably see that movie and look out for a costumed crusader coming to a town near you!

Now, onto the topic at hand. My hair.

I got a hair cut recently and as any black man can tell you, there is no better feeling than having your ears freshly lowered. And as any black man can also attest to, theres no worse feeling than not having the aforementioned haircut. Now, I am somewhere in between the haircut isn't fresh but I don't quite need a new one...I am in the "hair upkeep" stage which is why I wrote this blog in the first place.

I was thinking "Ricky (that's what I call myself when I talk to myself), are you keeping your hair natural, ARE YOU keeping it real?" And the answer is no, at least I don't think so. Rather I don't even know what natural actually is. Follow me as I venture into memories of hairs long gone...

**DISCLAIMER** I apologize for the ignorance I have in "natural" hair. If I offend you in this blog, well, oh well...

Elementary School Hair Care

Ahhhh, the good ol' days when I didn't give a damn about how I looked or smelled for that matter. I was your regular little black boy. A lil ashy around the knees and elbows and some nappy ass hair. I don't know if it was my grandmothers ignorance about male hair care products or the fact that she too didn't give a damn if my scalp was dry because all I remember is getting my hair combed, a lot...and it hurt...I hated it. I never had braids or anything like that and I got haircuts but in that mean time, in between time, the comb and I had a Ike and Tina type relationship and the comb was whoopin' my ass. Occasionally, when my grandma felt, she would through a lil' Pink Lotion into my deprived scalp but it seemed that the KKK was the only way to kill the nigger naps in my hair.

Middle School - High School Hair Care

Now, I don't know when, but at some point I became fascinated with waves. Like facial hair, I thought this would be the "thing" to separate me from the children. Waves meant I was a MAN, well at least a teenager. So, I asked my friends who in turn gave me horrible advice about how to get waves. So, I got a low hair cut, some DAX wave grease, a du-rag and a wave brush. I applied the thick wave grease to my hair evenly and began to brush my hair like Marsha from the Brady Brunch was my idol. Then I wore my du-rag......all the time......everywhere. It's almost like the waves I were cultivating were my best kept secret.

Now I know you were probably wondering as I was rambling on "Did it work?" and the answer is, kind of. I got waves...on the top and around the sides but I must admit, it was very incomplete, like Mary J Blije when she's happy. And now my hair had a thick, greasy feel. I used so much damn grease my du-rag had waves. Whenever I ran out of grease, I knew I had a weeks worth stored up in my du-rag. Needless to say, this was not the way.

I tinkered with other ways before I found the one. And the answer was right in my shower the whole time. It was in the bottle of conditioner I was using that I previously had no idea what it was made for. I was told to leave the conditioner in my hair, then brush it and put the du-rag on. This transformed my life immensely. For the first time in my life, I had let my Soul Glo. And the waves were a spinnin. And my hair was healthy and not DAXed the fuck up.

Senior Year High School Hair Care and Beyond

Problem solved right, no. Having waves took way too much fucking work. The summer going into my senior year, I was working a summer job and volunteering. And like most of my ex-girlfriends that I stopped paying attention to, they slipped. My waves quickly became mere ripples in a pond made by a 3 year old girl with a pebble. But the fight was not lost because now I had became aware of something hair had natural waves..when kept up. This keep up part was the hard part. The conditioner theory worked but added another 20 minutes to a shower and then I remembered back to the early days of hair care and I thought, HAIR LOTION! But not Pink Lotion, that was old lady hair lotion, no, I needed something else and I was introduced to Hollywood Beauty Olive Oil Hair Lotion. My Lord, this stuff changed my life. It made scalp moist (funny word, moist) and made my hair shine like the suits Puffy used to wear. And from then on, this was it...this was what I was going to do. I got the process down to 5 minutes and BAM!

"So Ricky, thanks for that interesting look into your slightly girl-like love affair with your hair but what does that have to do with your hair being natural? Are YOU keeping it real?" I'm happy I asked myself that. The answer is I don't know. When I got to college, I saw a lot of girls becoming obsessed with this natural look. I was confused at first and I believe I am still confused now as to what "going natural" really means. I met a girl with extensions in her hair (bamboo know the rest) who claimed she was "natural" to which I replied "tell that to the bald horse walking around now". As far as I know now, being natural just means not getting a perm, rather not using chemicals in your hair. It's healthier and it seems to give girls an amazing feeling...when done right. When done wrong, that same Sistah Girl singin India Arie will be dancing around to Just For Me on the way to the Dominicans.

And that brings us here ladies and gents, is my hair natural. Am I selling out my beautiful black roots by trying to make my hair what it isn't. Should I just like my hair grow out into the peasy mess that the man in the sky intended? If it were the 70's, would niggas with waves be the niggas with the fliest jheri curls? Or should I get my Detroit Red conk on?

I don't know, conks sound like they hurt.

Friday, July 2, 2010

What dreams may come...

Wassup dope heads,

I don't know about y'all, but every time I call y'all "dope fiends" or "dope heads" I think about the last time the word "dope" was used in pop culture. The only thing I can think of is "Class Act" starring Kid 'n' Play... "I AM Blade Brown! The dopest, hypest brotha on the block!" lol. That's completely off subject, but this is my blog (as well as Ric and Reg's) and I can do whatever the hell I want.

On topic...

I don't know about y'all but I'm a grown ass man who still has nightmares. Sometimes they're so realistic that I'd go as far as calling them night terrors. I'm serious. I'll wake up sometimes with sweat on my forehead and my heart beating fast as hell. But remember, I said I'm a grown ass man. So... I have grown ass nightmares.

Whatchu talkin' 'bout, Willis? (RIP Garry Coleman)

Yes, I do indeed dream about the Boogeyman, Freddy Kruger or Chuckie from time to time. But those are just dreams. They don't scare me. I'm a grown ass man, dawg! I know they ain't real. A grown ass nightmare is one that could actually happen to you in real life, though how it happens in your dream is often random and absurd. Here's what I mean... The following is a brief catalog of my grown ass nightmares:

My teeth falling out. This is number one because it is the SCARIEST one I've had, and I keep having this nightmare. What's worse is that, in my nightmares, I never see it coming. Things will be going well. I can be at work, a friends house or at the beach just relaxing (but I'm always near other people). Then all of a sudden something will feel crunchy in my mouth, and it'll be a fucking tooth! Not knowing what else to do, I usually try to put that shit back in my mouth. But then all of my teeth fall out! That is scary! I mean seriously, when you're a grown ass man or woman, what would you do if all of your teeth just fell out? Hell, what would you do if just one of your teeth fell out? One of the ones in the front.

The un-wet dream. Wet dreams suck because they're a big tease, but at least there's a happy ending. The un-wet dream is like the wet dream in every way except you don't feel anything. Mine's usually go like this... I'm kissing a girl and it's a dry kiss. Not in the way a bad kisser would be, but it just has no feeling. Then we start to have sex but again I feel nothing. In the dream we're going through all the motions, but I might as well be standing still. This is where I start to get frustrated and start to really fuck and go at it harder but I still don't feel a thing...! And then my teeth fall out. lol. No, that only happened once. And needless to say, that was a extremely bad nightmare. But the un-wet dream usually ends with me waking up with my pillow or sheets in my clutches, and I realize that I'd been dry humping my linens the whole time. No bueno. Again, this is a grown ass nightmare. Because sex can be bad, but imagine if it's so bad that you didn't feel anything.

The dream you know is a dream. This probably sounds strange but y'all know what I'm talking about. You're asleep. Nothing scary is happening. Nothing out of the ordinary. But all of a sudden someone says or does something that tips you off that you're having a dream. But here's the kicker... you can't wake up! Things continue to go normal in your dream, but you know it's a dream and you can't wake your ass up! You scream, hit yourself, you try everything. This is scary. This is what I imagine purgatory or a coma is like. Then I start to think, "Shit! Am I in purgatory? Am I in a coma? Don't pull that fucking plug!" What's worse is if you go to sleep with your tv on and your dream starts to emulate what you're hearing on tv. For me, it's usually some wack ass infomercial. So imagine, being in purgatory or a coma, and everyone around you is talking about the Boflex.

So those are a few of my grown ass nightmares - the ones that actually scare me. But go on letting me think I'm the only one who has weird night terrors...
  1. Have you ever dreamed that your teeth feel out? What would you do if one of your front teeth fell out now?
  2. What's the scariest nightmare you've had?
  3. Are you ever too old to have a wet dream?