Monday, July 31, 2006

Grand Draggin'

It took the strength of two Hercules' and 5 elephants for me to rise out of the sack this morning. Which means it was either a good weekend or one that was deemed too short. Or it was the dread of coming into this mausoleum. I think it was the just the latter.

The weekend was cool. They gave me a delivery window of 11 am to 2pm on Saturday, so I thought I was in for a long day of waiting. They got to my house at 10:50 am. That never would've happened in Detroit, that I know for sure.

I was entertaining an "import" this weekend too, so I got to actually use the couch. Very carefully, though. I hadn't Scotchgarded it yet. I wonder if this is the downside of my infamous sex drive. She actually had to ask me for it. It's not like it's been pouring in for me, but she actually had to ask for it. Left to my own devices, I wouldn't have touched her. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You know the fourth post I ever wrote was concerning my bitch ass assistant. Here it is for the curious. I came into work heated, ready to slice this bitch muthafucka up. He was on his way to a meeting. I told him "It's important that I talk to you. Come see me when you're done." Just to put something on his fuckin' mind.

I checked out Satan's Anus' Black Arts Fair. Let's just say it's a slight downgrade from the African World Festival in the Motor City. If you used your fingers and your toes, you'd still have digits left over after counting the booths. Even if you lost a foot in a landmine accident.

I saw quite a few tremendous broads there, ones I'd never seen before. Just like every other outstanding chick I've seen in SA, every one of 'em was matrimonied up. Job satisfaction plus the female factor has got my ass down.

My leasing office called me on Sunday to let me know my lease was up on July 31. "I'll re-up. But I need a clause in there that lets me out if I find a job more than 50 miles away." It shall be done.


P.S. Notice that I still don't really have shit to talk about. Hopefully this "white cloud" will stop following me and I can write again.

Friday, July 28, 2006

I Really Don't Have Anything To Write About

I can write about these secretaries snitching on each other all day every day, but that's been said. I can talk about the vast network of House Africans in Satan's Anus, but that's not cool. I wish there was an easy meme out there to do just to fill the space, but I don't see an EASY one that I haven't already done. This is the shit all topical writers must face at some point. How do you not talk about the same shit ad nauseum? So...let's see what's going on in my life....

I bought a couch yesterday, so that's somethin', right? They'll be delivering it Saturday. So finally I'll be pretty well furnished. And starting today is the Black Arts Festival, which consists of around 3 booths, so hey, that's somethin', right? I'm supposed to go over for a short look at the facilities this afternoon with Auntie Anita. I'll take it in full fledged tomorrow after they deliver the couch.

And I'm preparing for NYC next weekend. I'm in that weird place I go to before I have to fly somewhere. I hate flying, so even short flights upset the hell out of me. I even considered the train at one point. 13 hours on a train or 2 hours on a plane? I'm nervous, but I guess not nervous enough to shit away 11 hours.

How come I'm not doing shit? Haven't done shit for a week, my boss asks me to go to this meeting this afternoon and I'm livid. I'm kinda like "How dare this muthafucka ask me to do anything?".

My assistant begged me for the opportunity to get some supervisory experience. He's around 50 and his only supervisory experience was about 30 years ago. So I decided to let him supervise the secretaries. He told HR that he wanted more money because he was going to be supervising. Guess what? I snatched the supervision duties and gave 'em back to the dude that had 'em. Now you gets no experience and no loot. Jackass.

That's about it.

Stay Dry (except when you're supposed to be wet),

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

I'm A Little Off

I don't have shit to talk about, so I'll continue talking about nothing.

Stupid shit that makes me laugh and I can't explain why:

My boy Brundlefly's impression of Wilfred Brimley

Hood cats trying to say the word "ambulance"

Kids getting whupped

Garage sales

Commercials where age-old icons are made to be hip

My boy Hut's impression of Dorothy from the Golden Girls

That scene in O Brother Where Art Thou where George Clooney is getting his ass kicked

That old LL Cool J poster where he's trying to look hard in a TROOP jacket

"The Big Ragoo" (Carmine) from Laverne and Shirley.

My boy Three's impression of a chick coming home from the club.

Yossarian from Catch-22

Moe slapping the shit out of Shemp (for some reason only Shemp)

Burt Reynolds slapping the shit out of Dom DeLuise

The memory of my boy KRS breaking his foot while we were dancing with these girls freshman year

Dudes named Lonnie

The battle cry for old school Fruit Islands Cereal ("A-yumma-yumma")


Tuesday, July 25, 2006

"How Come You Ain't Call Me?"

"I hate movies with subtitles."

"I'm a vegetarian, except for fish, chicken and bacon."

"Jazz makes me sleepy."

"I ain't putting that in my mouth. That's nasty."

"You always readin'. What for?"

"Un-uhn! You crazy!"

"That's too much porn."

"I only eat that with gravy."

"Oooh, turn that up! That's my jam!" ("seat dancing" ensues)

"Me and dat African used to get fucked up together."

" I had the second baby to get him back."

"My favorite movie is Fatal Attraction."

"You've just never heard real good preachin' before. Come to my church and you'll see."

"What's the quickest you ever fell in love?"

"It don't taste right without pork."

"Bartender, I can't taste the liquor. Can you put more liquor in this?"

"I love shrimps!"

"Even though he stabbed my last boyfriend, we wuz still cool. You know, for the kids."

"I'm a ride or die chick!"

"What's going on now?" (during a football game)

"I almost got double promoted, too. My mama wouldn't let them."

"Buy me ____________."

Monday, July 24, 2006

Blogging For Blogging's Sake

I bought a table and two chairs on Saturday, so I'm no longer trifling. I have a place to eat. Next one down, the couch. I'm extra reluctant to buy it because the more heavy shit I get, the less likely I am to fuckin' move. I'm that lazy.

They had the "Taste of Satan's Anus" festival here this weekend, and it was as delicious as it sounds! My favorite thing was the cheesecake on a stick. Next weekend, the Black Arts Fair. I was supposed to go to the Michigan State Black Alumni picnic next weekend, but I squashed that. The chance of crossing paths with my past, especially my recent past, all at the same time isn't that appealing. It seems like a preponderance of the women I used to see graduated from Michigan State, even if it was 10 years after me.

I ran into one of the women that is holding me down, Lynn, yesterday at the bookstore. This woman is tight, tight, tight. I've never tried to step because one of the other dudes in our little transplant group was trying to mess with her. She was wearing these little khaki shorts and shit, and she's got these brown locs, and these green eyes and shit. So I talked to her for a second, then I went to get some coffee. I saw her leave and I regretted not asking her out. I drove around a little, running errands, and I decided to call and ask her out to the movies. She was in the middle of a discussion with one of the transplants (the dude who's getting at her) and a terrible family situation involving this. Bad situation, worse timing. I'll catch her some other time.

Some old cat told me once, "If you wanna live on the best coast, you betta come to the west coast." I'm starting to believe that might be true.


Thursday, July 20, 2006

Ode To Shaniqua

I've been reflecting on a few things lately, primarily brought about by So Wise Sista's post on training for decorum in corporate America. There are two general schools of thought on this subject: Conform muthafuckas, it's their game, play by their rules or; fuck that, we shouldn't have to play that fuckin' game exactly to their specifications if we're still professional.

I am pretty much in line with the latter opinion. If one is about their business, clean, timely (yeah, I know), knowledgeable, and willing to learn, the sky should be the limit.

I've heard the argument that even white people have to conform to the dictates of corporate America, and that's a true fact. You can't have a fuckin' mohawk or even a fauxhawk steppin' through Wall Street. Purple hair, multiple facial piercings, none of that.

But the shit they ask Black people to tone down isn't even extreme. A Black woman with braids has to deal with comments about having "ethnic" hair. I remember being a sixteen year old intern with Michigan Bell (Pre-Ameritech, pre-SBC. That's how old I am!!!) and being pulled aside by this brother with a shoulder length jheri curl and told I should have a more conformist hairstyle. This is when I had a high top fade. I guess I'm just a hairstyle rebel.

But my thoughts have been going a little deeper. I think about how much names like LaShaun, Keisha, D'Marcus, Earlando, and the much maligned Shaniqua upset the Black bourgeois and a lot of white people. I honestly can't think of any names that are more American.

These names are the by product of a uniquely American situation, the "peculiar institution". A mass of people, saddled with surnames that don't mean anything to us. The names we chose to give our children, however made up and "unconventional" get ridiculed. I'm not talking about naming your children after fuckin' products you'd like to own. I'm just talking about hybrid names or just shit you'd like to hear roll off your tongue, whatever the fuck they are, without regard to "who's not gonna hire my child".

The reality is, we are raising a generation of cannon fodder for the capitalist machine. We are making sure that are kids are able to "work for somebody" by giving them a "standard" name. We can think bigger than this. We can do better. I know I don't want to raise a child so fearful of their ability to be a leader that they make all of their choices based on what's acceptable to society at large, where their importance is minimal.

I hope one day we can stop being so slave-minded.

Be Easy,

Wednesday, July 19, 2006


Email I received from one of the secretaries

Everyone might not be a Jay Leno fan, but I think this quote pretty much
hits the nail on the head. The quote of the month is by Jay

With hurricanes, tornadoes, fires out of control, mud slides, flooding, severe thunderstorms tearing up the country from one end to another, and with the threat of bird flu and terrorist attacks, "Are we sure this is a good time to take God out of the Pledge of Allegiance?"

For those that prefer to think that God is not watching over us...go ahead and delete this. For the rest of us.....pass this on.

A few things struck me: 1) Is taking "God" out of the Pledge of Allegiance still even in the news? 2) Why are you so pressed about the Pledge of Allegiance, House African? 3) Stop playin' God like your personal Tiki doll. "If you don't love God, delete this email!!!" Fuckin' Voodoo priestess.

Conversation with Three at the Tigers/White Sox game yesterday

A vendor walks by selling cotton candy

3: You know what? I'mma start callin' you cotton candy.
KZ: What?
3: I'mma start callin' you cotton candy. That's the softest possible nickname you can give a cat. From now on, you're Cotton Candy. Look at that shit. It's all soft and sweet
KZ: O.K.
3: Can you think of a softer nickname?
KZ: I don't know.
Both of us are watching the game silently for a few minutes.
KZ: Apple
3: Apple what?
KZ: I'mma call you Apple.
3: You think that's softer than Cotton Candy?
KZ: Hell yes. I think people will hear Cotton Candy and think it's some sort of ironic nickname. Apple seems like it's more organic, no pun intended. It just seems like it could be a real nickname. Then, you apply it to a big 6'5" muthafucka, and you got the softest shit goin'.
3: Apple?
KZ: Apple.

Homeless guy at City Commission meeting
"How are you gonna pass an anti-panhandling ordinance? Don't you know I got bills to pay?"

Snail Mail
Y'all favorite girl, Shelly, sent me an invitation to her housewarming party in a couple of weeks. She's still a hell of a comedian.


Tuesday, July 18, 2006

Where You Wanna Be

Hey peoples, what's crackin'? I wanted to take this opportunity to write about an interesting movie I saw last week called "Secretary". This movie came out in 2002, but it happened to be recommended to me by good ol' Netflix, so I gave it a shot. It was definitely worth it.

The flick starts with this young woman (Maggie Gyllenhaal) coming home from an institution, where she was being treated for psychological issues. She'd been cutting herself for years, one day she cut too deep and was considered suicidal. As part of her re-entry into everyday society, she began training to be a secretary. After training she sought employment with a law firm. This is where it gets interesting.

The lawyer (James Spader) is an asshole, a real task master and perfectionist. As much as she tries to please him, it ain't happenin'. He is unrelenting and demanding. Her best efforts to please him get trashed and belittled. He starts by criticizing the way she makes coffee to the way she dresses, pretty soon everything in her life gets dictated to her. The relationship becomes physical when he makes her read a mistake-filled letter that she typed while he spanks her.

The thing is, this is just the shit she's been craving. Her thirst, her quest to derive meaning from life is being fulfilled. She must be punished for being imperfect and he's the man to do it. She has had enough of being accommodated and coddled.

He needs a completely submissive person to accommodate him, someone who does as he wishes unquestioningly. Someone willing to receive the punishment he wants to deliver without resistance.

Just as soon as he gives her what she needs (i.e. the physical punishment for being imperfect), he takes it away. As much as she tries, she can't do any wrong. As soon as it became evident to him that she enjoyed the punishment, he took it away, further punishing her. Sadistic muthafucka!

At the film's climax, she discards her chance for conventional "happiness" to stay in this situation.

This disfunctional relationship illustrates the adage that one should get someone as fucked up as they are to make a union work. As crazy as it sounds, this film actually touched me, because I saw a layer of sweetness in it. It made me less cynical (for a few hours, anyway). She was lost. He was lost. In the midst of drifting aimlessly they found each other, two crazy muthafuckas, Yin and Yang. My only concern was I thought maybe they should have switched the genders of the dominant and submissive personalities, just to stave off the charge of sexism, that the woman needed to be guided by a strong man to be happy. Other than that, I found this movie weird, disturbing, and outstanding. If you got a couple of hours to spare, give it a shot.


Monday, July 17, 2006

The Leg Tour

KZ: I don't know what it is. I'm just irritated by everything. I can't fuckin' help it.
Robyn: It's lack of pussy, *African*!
KZ: Ya think?
R: C'mon man. I know you. It's lack of pussy.

Is bludgeoning legal yet? Has anyone marched and protested for our right to beat muthafuckas to death? If not, I think I'd like to organize that rally, because it's a right we are sorely lacking.

I gets (yeah, I said "gets") to the "D" around noon on Saturday. I decided that I'd only be hanging out on Saturday because of this major snafu that the County of Satan's Anus made and the City of Satan's Anus (a.k.a. Zed) has to ficks. (sidenote: I'd like all words that end in "x" to now end in "cks". I'd also like all words that have "ee" in the middle to be spelled with "ea" and vice versa.)

So I drive to Belle Isle, thinking I'd be awash in a sea of Pink and Grean. No such luck. The Rock is fulla church groups and family reunions. No sorority stuff.

So I call Jigga. "Man, what's up? I don't see any AKAs on the Rock." "Aw, man, they're not having a picnic." "When did you find this out?" "Last night." "Well, why didn't you call me?" "We wanted you to come anyway. We knew you would flake out if we told you about the picnic."

Right then I cursed the lack of the rights for the bludgeoner. I'm officially in the pro-bludgeoning camp now.

So Jigga wants me to club and hang with them later that night. I can't. I was only coming for the day, so I'm underdressed and plus I fuckin' hate clubs. I called Three when I got to Cobo Hall, epicenter of the Boule. I'm just watchin' women and being tall and shit. Three and his boys wanna hang, hit some spots to play pool and cuss, and go to a Tigers game. I love the Tigers, but it's 95 fucking degrees outside. So I go to my old standbys.

I call Charlize Theron. No where to be found. I decided to take the Leg Tour. First I called the 5'11" Big Fun. She wants to see me around 4:00 pm. It's only 1:30 so I gotta find something else to do. Then, I called the 5'10" Lillie. She wants me to go to this free concert with her around 8:00 pm. Cool. It's all cool.

I fuck around at Cobo for a little while and bounce to a couple of malls to see if I can find club gear, just in case I decide to hang with my frat brothers. No such luck, but 4:00 pm approaches, so I head out to see Big Fun.

*Icky stuff omitted for your reading pleasure*

I left Big Fun's crib around 7:00 pm. I'm headed downtown and my phone rings. It's Lillie. "Can you meet me downtown now?" "Hell yes!"

I meet her at Orchestra Hall and it's good. Very good. It's a very festive. She's holding on to me and I feel good. Cats is lookin' and ice grillin' me. Honestly, I feel like myself for the first time in a very long time. When I'm ready to head back to Satan's Anus, she walks me to my car in the parking garage. Somehow I discover she's pantyless. Somehow.

*Some other stuff omitted*

I headed back to SA around 9:30 pm feeling much better about finishing half of my two year plan. I know this next year won't be so bad.

Stay Lucid,

Friday, July 14, 2006

Belle Isle

Yesterday, for the first time in ages, I went into a candy store. I'm not talking about a Godiva or something upscale, but an old school candy store, that just sells candy. They have a retro candy store, specializing in "old school" candy here in Downtown Satan's Anus. I hadn't noticed it in the year I've been here, but I noticed it last week. I made a point of going there yesterday after work, mainly because I'm addicted to these.

As I was in the candy store, a young Mexican mother came in with her three daughters. Man, those girls were buggin' out, grabbing stuff, trying to each everything in sight. They were bad, but cute as hell. It was right then when I realized as an adult I'd never seen the proverbial "kid in a candy store". It was funny as hell. It really helped to illustrate that old saying, because those shorties were running around with a crazed look in their eyes. "Candy is the shit!" is what they seemed to be saying. I got a real kick out of watching them.

Well, that was a precursor to my upcoming weekend, because you see, I'll be that proverbial "kid". And Belle Isle Park will be my proverbial "candy store". That'll be the site of the Alpha Kappa Alpha picnic, where every African worth his salt will be, game in hand, trying to leave the park a winner. I'll talk to y'all Monday, win or lose.

Stay Dope,

Thursday, July 13, 2006

Back Again

I just got off the phone with my frat brother, Jigga. He's trying to make sure I'm squared away with someplace to crash this weekend. I'm talking to him, preoccupied as hell because shit has pretty much hit the fan here work-wise.

This Mary Sue, leader of the secretaries, is at it again. For weeks she's been bugging me and my boss, asking for more work to do. This was a plot, plain and simple.

She just finished her bachelor's degree from some online university I'd never heard of. For all intents and purposes, it's useless for what we do, but she's been insisting we give her more relevant, non-secretarial work to do. But gotdamn it, we NEED her to be a secretary. So we've been hesitant. You see, Mary Sue is, for all intents and purposes, a fuck-up. She has never completed satisfactorily anything that takes more than two steps to accomplish. And for the most part she's REFUSING to do secretarial work because it's beneath her.

These fuckin' unions have got my hands tied, so I can't can her ass. I've been re-assigning her shit like crazy and taking the shit she used to do and giving it to other people. She asked me a few weeks ago if she was being pushed out for budgetary reasons. Mary Sue was concerned because the work she was letting fall by the wayside was being re-assigned. I told my boss about this conversation and told him "Watch out for a fake injury".

Just like clockwork (on a old faulty clock) today she called me from her workstation and said she hurt her back lifting file boxes. She needed to go see the city's doctor. And off the fuck we go!

It's times like these when I wonder why the fuck I ever wanted to be in management at all.


Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Three 2 Da Rescue

On the Phone
Mama Zednanreh: How are you doing?
KZ: I'm great. Couldn't be better.
MZ: How's Thelma?
KZ: Well you know how we're not a couple anymore? Well we're REALLY not a couple anymore.
MZ: Not even "friends with benefits"?
KZ: (laughing) Nope.

This conversation was funny to me on four levels. One, that my mother is holding out hope to get some grandchildren through her chosen successor to my ex-wife. Another level, is that she knew the phrase "friends with benefits". Damn television! The third is that she'd even use a euphemism like that. This is the bluntest person I know. My parents came to visit me in college. In a room full of my friends she says "You must be up here buying pussy the way you runnin' through my money!" That's my mother. The fourth is hearing her say that phrase with her southern accent. Some shit is just funnier said with a southern accent.

"I need, Don Corleone, those politicians that you carry in your pocket, like so many nickels and dimes." -Sollozzo, The Godfather

Replace "Don Corleone" with "Three", and "politicians" with "women" and you got the way my homie operates in a nutshell. Anyway, Three is making preparations for me to come through this weekend. He knows the rule. I'll go anywhere there are women, except strip clubs. So he's trying to accommodate. "I got this thick ass 22 year old chick I want you to meet. I told her about you." "What the fuck you tell her?" "I told her you were my boy." And that's that.

In reality, all I wanna do is go to a friggin' baseball game (Tigers, fool!) and chase new women, 'cuz the fun is in the chase. I think that's why I'm igniting all these bridges on a subconscious level.

In addition I finally after much hemming and hawing bought my damn ticket for NYC, so I'll be up in that piece soon.

Enjoy y'alls day,

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

In The Meantime

This chick LoLo calls me yesterday and asks if I'll be in Detroit on the weekend. I will, but I'm not sure how to answer. Those types of inquiries are always ominous to me. So I do what comes naturally.

"No, I'll be in Satan's Anus."
"Too bad, I wanted your opinion on something."
"I told you I was gonna do it and I did it."
"Yes I did."
"I told you that shit was unnecessary."
"I needed to do it. For me."
"Good luck with that."
"Don't you wanna see 'em?"
"I guess I'll see 'em eventually."
"Dang, it's like that? You want me to beg you to come see my new boobs?"
"Naw, I'm sayin', I'll see 'em soon enough."

She was disappointed, but I'm sure they are plenty of cats who will volunteer to check her out. I'll be on a bonafide mission this coming weekend. It'll be a sea of AKAs in Detroit and I'm not missing out on diving in because of LoLo's nutty ass.

I got this flyer for some event the AKAs were having and my ex-wife's name was at the bottom of the flyer as a contact person. I can avoid that event and feel good about it!

In the meantime, I'll be refereeing secretary fights, deflating city commissioner egos and trying to stop being such a pack rat at the crib.

Is it just me or does being a politician require a muthafucka to be supremely corrupt or amazingly delusional and messianic? Just wondering.

Remain dope,

Monday, July 10, 2006

Gargling Bongwater

Lack of walls, huts, quonset or
adobe, mud packed and hardened these
roundhouses give me kicks and I
remain focused and prevent squares
from defining me.

These curves owe no debt to western architecture
they bend as I need them and make me smile.
What appears to be a lack of order, randomly assembled
is all in order and arranged for the
enjoyment of the deranged, self-abuser.

It's still cold, even as I'm surrounded by 90
degrees at the four corners of my daily existence
and drink hot coffee tasting like swill and putting me
in the mindset that I am gargling bongwater
and keeping the curves at bay.


Friday, July 07, 2006

Due Diligence

Fresh for '06, you suckas

KZ: I gotta a problem with that e-mail you sent.

S: What's the problem?

KZ: How is me not calling you causing you this type of grief?

S: It was like your were dodging me. It hurt my feelings.

KZ: Well that's my issue. How am I in a position to hurt your feelings by not returning your call. I mean, who the fuck am I?

S: I was supposed to come see you this weekend and you're not returning my calls. I figured you didn't want me to come. I mean, you didn't call me to laugh about the refrigerator magnet I sent.

KZ: Let's say I didn't want you to come. Why not just say "fuck it and fuck that *African*" and move on? Why did you let your feelings get all involved?

S: Because who the fuck likes being dodged!

KZ: Why care so much?

S: What are you really trying to say?

KZ: I can't give you what I think you want from me. I'm not willing to do it. I love being single. I love seeing multiple women. I think you want me to be exclusive to you.

S: Why would you say that?

KZ: The conversation we had when I was in Chicago, which was in the back of my head since we had it, and now the e-mail.

S: What about the conversation from Chicago?

KZ: You were talking about how it would be if we were "lovers" and shit. Exclusivity shit.

S: What else do you remember from that conversation? Do you remember how I told you what my girl said about you before she introduced us? She said "he's got babes and he's got BABES", meaning you had quantity and quality women. I know you. I don't wanna be with you like that. I was just talking. I need to get away from the city for a minute. I'd just like to spend a weekend chillin'. Why are you trying to read so much into a damn weekend?

KZ: Shells, I just needed clarity. I don't want it on my conscience that I'm leading you on or lying about the nature of our relationship.

S: OK. (pause) Are you dating a lot there?

KZ: Some. A little.

S: Just let 'em know you need a break this weekend. I don't want 'em rollin' up on ya when I'm there.

Be Cool,

Thursday, July 06, 2006

Soft Serve

So she called me. Again. It's the twelfth call that she's made that I've ignored. I won't pick up the phone. I'd rather be an asshole than to overtly be the bad guy. So I'm letting her call me, unabated. Work is hectic and I'm having shit dumped at my feet because no one wants to think for themselves. I'm seething with anger. My work life and social life sucks.

I check my Comcast e-mail account and there's an e-mail from her. The subject line reads "Am I Being Dissed?". Let me think. I don't know about you, but if I call someone 12 times over the course of a week, leave messages, and they don't call me back, I'd assume I was being dissed. Hell that's just me. But to top it off, you send an e-mail asking if you're being dissed. I think you might be too stupid to live.

I read the e-mail. "I feel like you're ignoring me for no good reason. This is just mean. You're hurting my feelings. I can't believe you'd be so cruel to me."

Right there, my 243 viewings of "American Pimp" and my Too $hort CD collection go out the window. Fuck Knockout Zed, I'm Zedediah, loving son of loving parents. The man with 2 sisters and 4 nieces. The dude that sang "Happy Birthday" to his 3 year old niece in the Grad School library on a pay phone. I'm diggin' in my pocket for the keys to my ice cream truck. I'm Mr. Softee.

"Hey, Shelly, what's goin' on?" "Hey Zeddie! Where have you been? I've been calling and calling..." "Yeah, I know. Shit gets hectic."

And with that, we solidified the plans for her to come see me this weekend.


Wednesday, July 05, 2006

One Down, One To Go

Hey y'all. Welcome back (if you are indeed back)! This place is a mausoleum today. I can only hope for a peaceful "rest of the" week.

Today is a special day for me. It is my one year anniversary here at this job. Regular readers will wonder what is the big deal. Well what it means is that half of my two-year plan is completed. My two-year plan in coming to Satan's Anus was to be at the Director level in my field for two-years in a smaller town so that I could go anywhere of my choosing afterward and remain at that level. I'm halfway there.

Realistically, my job duties here are not even close to the responsibility I had when I was working for the City of Detroit. But in Detroit, they have a promotional system in place that works for them. That system is called "Sucking The Mayor's Dick". I opted out of that system and tried to get promoted using something I called "Telling The Mayor To Kiss My Ass". My system was critically flawed, so I left.

One year here in Satan's Anus has taught me a few things:
  1. Be awfully careful what you wish for.
  2. Follow through every time. You could still be fuckin' that nail tech with the locs if you would have just kept calling even when you were moving, jackass!
  3. Before you ask a woman to take her clothes off, ask if she's had gastric bypass surgery first.
  4. Never glorify the idea of being the boss. People are petty and they believe you can solve everything. Given to their own devices, they'll let you dictate how they live and then resent you for it.
  5. There is a such thing as having too many cousins. Especially if they all live in the same small assed town.
I've made a few minor decisions in my life, too. I need to stop bullshitting and buy a couch and a dining table. Even if I have a timetable in mind to leave, I should at least try to make my situation liveable. And I should probably not pass up opportunities to enjoy myself just to make my time more miserable here, lest I settle.

Let's knock this next year out together.

Be Easy,

Monday, July 03, 2006


I hope all y'all are recovering nicely from the trichinosis you got from the ribs this weekend.

I'm reading and writing this morning, sad to be at work on July 3rd, a day I could've taken off for all intents and purposes. I just figured I'd be OK in a 3/4 empty office. And it's been cool so far. I snuck in my Futurama DVDs to play on my computer, so I won't be too bored in this piece.

I was in Detroit this weekend. Slipped in again. The problem was this time I ran into a gang of my frat brothers at this street festival. Dudes was pissed. I'm the cat that doesn't return calls or tell them when I'm coming to town. I think my sands Jigga said it best. "Fuck you, African!" That summed up the sentiment of the collective.

I went home to see if I could empty the contents of my nut sack into a pretty young lady. Alas, it was to no avail. I made the calls late and missed everyone, except the ones I didn't wanna see. Like LoLo, who inexplicably is still trying to get poked. She left me a five minute voicemail message in Spanish. Five entire minutes. I guess it doesn't seem long when you say it, but think about that. Five fuckin' minutes in a language I can't understand. I think she might believe that knowing Spanish might be hereditary. It's not.

So I'm back in Satan's Anus and my boss has invited me to enjoy the 4th with his family. There are just 2 problems with that: 1) I don't ENJOY the 4th. Ever. It's a day off that has nothing to do with my heritage. 2) As nice and as "Midwestern" a gesture it is, I can't go. Nothing against his family, but I don't enjoy family gatherings ESPECIALLY if it's not my family, people I can actually tell to go fuck off. So I'll let him know today that I'll likely be heading back to Detroit to hang out with some friends and thank him for his generous offer. Yeah, I'll lie.

I'll eventually buy a grill, and probably catch salmonella or avian flu while trying to cook chicken. Enjoy your time off and I'll catch y'all later.