Skeletons in my closet

The silent running dialogue that I often have with myself.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Huh Bruh!!!

Man,,,, it is Friday.

No post today. Been heavy at work making history.

Aint going in today.

See Yall at Essence.

Side Note:Had a white woman I work with ask me how long it take to do black womens hair?

First of all why ya want to know that?
Second how the hell should I know?
Third I think it takes like 8-10 hours on a Saturday.

"Oh" she replied, "I was just wondering, cause you leave work for like 4hrs to get yours cut and you go every week."

I really dont know if I was insulted or not. Was she checking my timesheet?
Or was she just "I am white and I dont get you niggas!"

But I will hip yall to the whole black barbershop story. Later!

And I am GONE!!!!!


PS. Be on the look out for Mr. Manners for the Bloggers, in Blog World.
(YA know BlogEtiquette)

HopeFully I will have some Essence Stories too.

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Juicy II

Now just to start Juicy is as Juicy does.

I will try to put Juicy squarely in frame for you to reference.

Juicy is more than just a “moomoo”
SideNote: It is a term shared between myself and my daughter.

Juicy is more than just a body shape, height or weight. It is a combo of all those things. You can’t be too juicy. You can be too thick, too thin, but you can’t be too juicy.

Juicy
Halle Berry (Last Boy Scout)
Selma Hayek (Dusk To Dawn)
Vanity (The baddest woman to ever live circa de 1986)
Rosie Perez (Fight the Power)
Faith Evans (Before she lost that weight)
Amarie
The Girl who popped her thong at the end of the Nelly video.
This Chic who lived next door to me. (And believe I did)
YOU ( and You know who You are….are used to be)
And of course my one and only, she is truly the juiciest. (Yeow)

So it aint just a body style, it is a softness, an appeal. A feminity (is that a word?) that cannot be faked and it does more than come and go.

You can’t be ride or die and be juicy. You can’t be a gutter girl and still be Juicy.

In order to be Juicy you have to be a; pull the chair out, open the car door, ply with wine, expect to meet my mamma, make me meet your daddy, educated (not just schooled), travel at leisure, enjoy dem Saints, sexually open, sexually driven, have to whisper in your ear kinda woman.

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Juicy Ramble

I am coming up with my writing style. I ebb and flow from writing on my life’s experiences or my day to day…or a combination thereof.

Every now and then something happens that trips me out and I just have to put this shyte on paper. I read a blog that put much wrong shyte on my mind.
Damn: Thanks to reading Muffin.

I will make a revelation today. I will reveal something that may or may not be apparent. I like women. I love women. Now don’t get it twisted, I love my girl, but I really like women. I would never step beyond them bounds under penalty of death. Ya dig?

SideNote: Except for maybe that chic Amarie, man she does damage. If I ran that race you know a nigga would win.

I am standing next to my one of my girl friends, Ms. V. It is raining, and it appears that every car drives closer to the curb in an attempt to splash us. She comments on this, and I agree. We head back inside; I offer to buy the next drinks.

We are waiting for Ms. V.’s friend to appear. Her friend pure and simple, not trying to hook up just wanted to introduce me, hang out. If you ever been in the situation where a girl introduces another girl you can bet the first questions asked always pertain to looks.

SideNote: The Rules

If a girl is not attractive, her friend will say she is cute.

If a girl is cute, her friend will say she is attractive.

If a girl is attractive, her friend will not bring her around to meet you.

Oh, and I am not trying to say this just didn’t want to leave anyone out!
If a girl is ugly, you probably already met her; she was at the club hanging in the beginning.


Now, I was told this girl was attractive so my interest is peaked. I knew according to the rules that I was in for at least a good piece of eye candy.

In bounds this perky little girl, cute, pleasant, and maybe even attractive. We hung out drank drinks, and chilled half of that night. Ms. V, got work the next working early and she aint about to leave nobody to they own devices, declares the night over. I am cool with that because other things need to be done. I walk both ladies to their cars. Ms. V’s friend hopes in her Camry and as she speeds off she hollers an opened ended we should hook up again later.

I smile, “Ima HOLLER”.
But I am not. Ms. V turns to me declares she knew I would dig little girl. Wrong, hold up, shyte girl I thought you knew me. If you want to know what I like I will try my best to break it down simple, open, and honest:

  • I like a juicy little chic. Juicy is the best way I can describe it. See thick is one thing, fine is another, and juicy is the middle ground between thick and fine. To describe juicy lets start with the fact that it does shake. It jiggles, it moves, but it doesn’t ripple. It does not loose its form. It stays put. It may have a little roll, but it does not cauliflower. (Used as a verb).

    It is wet on demand; it might be wet all the time (got to do the research). It will trickle down your chin. Its best when eaten lying down, but will not suffocate you if eaten from behind. It always taste like puzzy, not strawberries, not melon, not Vicki’s Secrets.

    If you lay it out, it is not as flexible as fine, but not “as out of breath as thick”. It reacts with you and it moves on its own accord. It lusts, it thinks, mutherfocker might wink atcha if you get it excited enough. It stays hidden, it aint all busted out tongue wagging.

    When you lay on juicy, it welcomes u in. Makes you smile and giggle, maybe even say damn. You will snuggle with juicy, juicy will make you miss curfew. Juicy niggas know they got the juice. Juicy drive you crazy.

    When you get it there you are rewarded by it letting you come.

    I will expound on this a little more later, and I’m gone!!!!




Monday, June 27, 2005

Baby Daddy a part of Lyfe

I was listening to this new artist, Lyfe. He has a song that really tripped me out. The song itself was unmemorable but one line particularly got my thinking.

In the song he basically tells some woman that he might not be able to be in a relationship with her because she got kids.

I have seen all the Maury, Oprah, Jerry type shows. Heard Fantasia and some others speak about the struggles of being a baby momma. Spoke with plenty of friends who bemoan their plight as unwed mothers.

SideNote: Bemoan, it’s a word I like to use but it means more than just to lament. In my dictionary it is a person who be moaning about shyte that they caused, situations they helped create, and never plan to do anything to create, control, or change their poor pitiful circumstances.


Now I have the extra benefit of being on the other side of the fence. Yes, I am a baby daddy, a father, a dad, the old man, and a pop. I proudly boast of my situation. And just to shut most of you down early my lovely daughter lives with me. Yes, you heard it here first; I am the primary care giver PCG to my seed. Have been handling this for years in fact, most of her young life.

The story starts at the end of a really bad tumultuous relationship with my ex-wife. I made one of those change your life moves and started law school. Now anyone who knows about law school understands that it aint easy. In fact looking back it was some of the toughest shyte done. So I did the adult grown thing and asked my ex to oblige me this for 3 years. Now She agreed and politely waited till my first year law school exams to drop my daughter off and bounce.

Shit still makes me laugh because that same week I got booted from my place of dwelling. Life was hard…but fair.

Moving on to taking care of a child. First things first. I don’t know how to do hair. I tried many times, but I just couldn’t do it.

I remember my best effort fell far short. I combed her curly locks for hours on end and finally got it right! I stop by the K&B down the street and rush in to buy something. We are in the store for five minutes when some older woman seemed to be admiring my handy work.

“Baby, who combed your hair?” The woman enquired. Not with a smile or a frown but a stern look of concern.

“My Daddy”
I thought the lady was really admiring my work until I hear her response to my daughters reply.

I can tell. Where is your mommy?” Now she said this right in front me. In one fell swoop she belittled my hard work, and affirmed my preconceived notion that only woman can do hair.

SideNote: See when my angel was an angel she was truly daddies heart. She really did no wrong. Even the way she said daddy made most of my life worth living. Now she still is my sweet loving heart, but yesterday, her eleven-year-old ass mumbled under her breath, something to the effect that her daddy was stupid!!!! And mean!!!! But alas she is still my heart and can do no wrong.

It is really very little difference between the hard knock lives of baby mommas and baby daddies. I guess they may just have been fewer of us then them.

I still would get the most peculiar stares from people when they learned of my status as a single parent and PCG. Most either assumed the mother was dead or otherwise unfit. I shall hold quite on that issue, it aint the point of this blog.

Dating: Hmm, well I can say that it was not harder to get to know the opposite sex. For the most part being a baby daddy helped me in that department with a certain kind of woman.
SideNote: Now, I never let most women meet my daughter. IF you got that high up, you must have been really special. And if you did get that high up the visits would not prove long for fear of attachment.

Certain kinds of women were looking for that strong responsible man, it showed character and worth…value. Once they find out you have a baby they turn cold. Once they find out you are the PCG they heat up considerably. Their plans change from meet me at the club, to let's go bowling or the movies. *Family Dates*
I’ll stop by and comb her hair”
“I cooked a little extra, I will bring it for yall for dinner”
And my favorite…
If you need me to I will take her somewhere or pick her up if she needs a ride”

DAMN: How the hell does any chic think I am leaving them to care for my child, shyte I wont even trust you at my crib by yourself, much less trust you with my daughter.

Needless to say the other end of the spectrum was not solidly impressed.
Look, I don’t date men with children, because I think I should come first”

SO I would tell them that if they are looking for the same attention I give my daughter, they need to grow up. I take care of my daughter because she needs me and she is my responsibility. If a woman is that needy, shyte she can’t play anyway…. Holler.
But even miss “I cant compete with your baby”, had a soft heart when I spoke of PTA and Brownies, or dance class. And yes, single dads do run their mouths about their children. Especially when they are the PCG.
Only really bad drawbacks came during the late night hour. Booty calls always meant you had to come to me, don’t knock, and don’t make to much noise. Oh, and you had to leave before morning, cause my daughter would be up.

Now, I aint goin’lie, that worked really well for me. Even if my daughter was not at home I would act like she was so I could get that good home delivery.

Yeah its hard, and it probably effected how I lived from then on in a major way. But, I never got child support, and the mother was free to run the streets.
DAMN: And get pregnant 3 more times, huh bruh!!!!!!! and none by me mind you!

So I don’t have a song, a TV show or nothing, I think in fact that we are a new phenomenon, Men as PCG.
I would like to hit ole Oprah show and tell the other side of the story. IF anybody knows how to get on that show, please hook me up, I need some of that free stuff she gives out.