Babee Munkees and Clams

Self Test - Are You A Clown?

2010-11-18T23:41:00.004-05:00

This is a checklist that one should run down every so often when one suspects that they are entering clowndom.

1. Does your face makeup leave a crotch print when you give head to your mate?

2. Do you believe that honking a horn twice is a suitable substitute for the word "yes"?

3. Is your car four doors or two?

4. Do you carpool?

5. Has one of your co-workers recently tossed a bucket of confetti in your face?

6. Are your suspenders holding up ridiculously over-sized pants?

7. Do you buy your shoes several sizes too big?

8. Are you a redhead? Is your hair curly?

9. Does the smell of elephant shit make you horny?

If you answered "yes" (or honked a horn twice) to 5 or more of these questions, you are indeed a clown. The people around you are perfectly justified in treating you the way they do. Stop whining and carry on.

KZ

My Long Overdue Reflection on My Trip To Europe

2010-11-16T10:54:00.008-05:00

Hello folks, it's been a minute. I've been doing absolutely nothing, but it was time consuming. I spent the last half of October (a fortnight) in Europe, county-hopping. This is a pretty big deal, given my well documented fear of flying. I went to my doctor (a.k.a. the world's most boring doctor) and asked for some anti-anxiety pills. She prescribed me Ativan (I think) and sent me on my way. That was step number one.

The second step was planning the trip, which consisted of going to Rome, Florence, Venice, Brussels, Amsterdam, Paris, and finally London. After arriving in Rome, it would take a myriad of trains and one flight internal within Europe to see everything I needed to see as a cultural tourist. I even got to take a Eurostar train through the Chunnel. The fuckin' Chunnel, Africans!

I got back in one piece, but truthfully, I never really analyzed the trip as I was taking it. No deep thoughts, no insights, just everything at face value. It wasn't until I returned that I looked back and thought "Hey, wait a minute, that guy was trying to seduce my wife!" or some other shit like that. With that being said, here's what I remember in short, bite sized, millennium attention span appropriate blurbs.

Roma
Man, fuck Rome. Yeah, I said it. And Rome's mama.
The Trevi Fountain is dope. Gelato, outstanding. My fat, stereotypical American ass ate pizza most of the time and it was the best pizza ever! We stayed for three days in two different places, a dope hotel first, then a dope bed and breakfast. With all this being said, why fuck Rome? The people. They are the rudest I encountered on the Continent and I WENT TO PARIS!!! And it's a lot of old with not enough new mixed in. It's a world city based on tradition rather that it's real place in the current world in my humble opinion. So, you can keep it, you crazy romantics (literally!).
After 3 days, we took a hi-speed train to Florence.

Firenze
Man, Florence is all that. The DiMedici's had it right holding down Florence. It's old as shit and as beautiful as fuck. When I pictured Italy, Florence is the city of which I was thinking. Quality architecture, The Uffizi Museum, THE David. Pure dopeness. The next time I go to Italy, I can skip Rome and take my ass directly to Florence. We were only here for about 4 hours before we hopped the train again to get to Venice.

Venezia
Overrated like an Ivy League degree. Venice is for lovers? I'm a lover. It's not for me. Hypothesis flawed. My lover? She didn't like it either. Fucking canals are gorgeous. Endless dead ends into canals when you're walking are not cool. That plaza where all the movies are shot in Venice is very nice (my research tells me it's Piazza San Marco or St. Mark's Square), and well worth the 400 photos I took there. I felt like Jason Bourne, if he were a fat, balding loser and at the tail end of his life.

Bruxelles
We flew to Brussels after staying overnight in Venice. We flew on Ryanair. Some words of advice: avoid Ryanair. One hour of being stuck on the tarmac, after which we took off and the flight attendants tried to sell: lottery tickets, perfume, scarfs, other various sundry items. H-O-O-D-S-H-I-T. It was a cheap and relatively quick way to get from southern Europe to the north, but man oh man, Ryanair is worse than Spirit and I fucking hate Spirit with a red hot burning passion.
I spent about 3.5 hours total in Brussels. I didn't really see that much shit, except a waffle sales woman and a frites sales man. That's all I needed. I didn't see Manneken Pis, apparently the most famous piece of art in Belgium, but I saw many, many replicas, mostly made of chocolate.

Seriously, they love this little pissin' bastard.

The next stop was the train station and off to our next 3 day destination...

Amsterdam
What a magnificent city! What a standard they have set as a civilized nation. What a magnificent group of good, kind, friendly people. How the fuck did they get to this from being a nation-raping, diamond stealing, Shell Oil owning, apartheid supporting, Afrikkaner spawning, Congo-colonizing, West Michigan living sons of bitches? I don't know, but I can tell you I didn't think of their colonial chicanery once while I was there. And seriously began to think about how I could live there for good at some point in my life. It was that magnificent. I even bought new shoes in Amsterdam (for the record, I wear a size 47 EUR).

I know I only got a slice of life. Hell, I didn't even smoke weed or go into a sex show. I did all the great shit associated with being in Holland, like take pictures of windmills and go to the Van Gogh Museum without the sinny stuff and it was still by far the best leg of the trip. I even got to drop laundry off, pay a few Euros and come back a couple of hours later to clean drawers. They are at once completely organized and completely laid back. God bless the Dutch (does not apply to the ones in West Michigan).

After 3 days, I was sad to leave. We had to board a regular train back to Brussels to catch a hi-speed train going to Paris. Only the regular train had technical issues and we got delayed over an hour, missing our connecting train. When we got there, the woman at the ticket counter told us not to worry, to just hop on the next hi-speed train to Paris. When we tried to board, the conductor told us to fuck off, we'd missed our train, tough luck. We protested, he again said fuck off. We got on the next hi-speed train anyway, with no seats. TAD sat near the luggage and I stood. When the on-board conductor checked our ticket, he just chuckled and we were fine. Fuck that other conductor.

Paris
Wow! Paris! The City of Lights! And dirt. Plus crepes.
We stayed in an area I'd like to call the "Brooklyn" of Paris. It's a little gritty, kinda up and coming in some spots, a few hipsters here and there, but mostly where working people live. It was one of the best "real city" situations we'd been in thus far. We essentially dropped off our heavy ass backpacks and roamed into the streets to find food. Luckily, they tried to make us feel right at home at the first restaurant we went to.

All in all, it turned out that the reputation for Parisian rudeness did not bear out in my short stay. It was all good. They were less rude than both the Romans and the Londoners. In fact, Parisians seemed to be working hard to counter that reputation by being very helpful in most instances that we had to interact. Maybe it's because it looked like I might strike them at any moment, but still, the trip to Paris was good and nobody got hurt. I'd like to go back someday.

After 3 days, we were off to Jolly Old England. Yay, Chunnel!

London
London is a great city. Free fucking museums! It's the perfect nerd town. Everything's in English! Bonus! The people aren't particularly kind, and they are on a whole some of the most unattractive people I've ever seen, but they have a damn good grasp on mixing the modern with the historic. And I'm in love with their subway branding.

It's the kind of place I could see myself living if it weren't for the stifling class system and the fear of having hideously ugly grandchildren.

Me and TAD were at Wicked and towards the end, somebody fainted or had some sort of episode. One of the ushers yelled "Is there a doctor in the house?" and a lady hopped up and sprinted towards the front to help. I'd never seen that before. The person got the help he or she needed and I paid a lot of money to not really see the end of that fucking play. The show went on, but me and my fucking compassion for other humans made me miss some key points that tied up the ending.

There was a lot of off and on rain, of course. And nobody really has better fish and chips than you or I have already had here in the States, but London was not bloody bad.

So that was my anniversary trip.

To my good friend Three, who has just turned 40, while I remain firmly in my thirties

2010-09-06T01:32:00.003-04:00

Dear Three,

I just figured out how I will murder you.

Don't be alarmed by this revelation. I am not doing it for selfish reasons, for the pleasure of not having you walk the earth will give to me and many, many others. I'm just doing it so you will no longer age, embarrassing yourself as you become more senile, fragile, corny, and generally wack. I want to kill you out of love.

I'll invite you to my next birthday party, where I myself will gracefully glide across the threshold into my forties. It will be December then, a chilly wonderously wintery Detroit December. Many of our other friends will be in attendance as the DJ plays my favorite hip hop. We'll likely be at La Casa De Habana, the cigar bar I love so much.

I will beckon for you to join me outside, to get away from the smoke and the din of assembled revelers, under the guise of having a heart to heart chat with my dearest friend. We will look up at the starry, dark Downtown sky and marvel at the chill we've both experiencing for our 40th year.

I'll begin to toss my hat up in the air. You'll wonder what I'm doing, but I'll keep talking about the Lions or some chick at the party with a giant ass and a tight dress. You'll dumbly ignore the growing intensity of the tosses while acknowledging the ineptitude of our local sports team and the hook on Linda Sue. During this time I will succeed in dislodging a giant icicle.

As the icicle falls, I will catch it, and while you are blathering away I will shove that icicle through your jacket and into your pitifully aging heart. I'll drag you into the foyer and sit your body in a chair. It'll be assumed you're just tired from all the partying, so people will let you "sleep". In the meantime the space heater I'll have set up near you will work to melt the icicle.

The murder weapon will melt while I'm mingling with my guests. No witnesses, no murder weapon. The perfect crime.

Happy Birthday, Three!

KZ

The Blueprint For Education

2010-08-27T14:50:00.002-04:00

I sat on my balls yesterday.

I climbed into the driver's seat of my car as I was leaving work yesterday and I sat on my balls. I yelped and hopped out of the car, the pain coursing through my body. I stood, bent with my hands on my knees, waiting for the pain to go away. I looked to the sky and breathed heavily, trying to meditate my way out of the discomfort. Slowly, but surely, the sensation subsided and I was able to take that seat again, a little more carefully this time. But I'd learned my lesson. Some lessons aren't taught, or even casually passed along. It's just something you do that you are forever cognizant that you mustn't ever do again.

I won't sit on my balls tomorrow.

KZ

The Place Where I Work

2010-06-19T01:29:00.002-04:00

I've been looking for what seems like forever, but in reality has been 3 years, for a new job. I hate the place that I work. I hate my boss, especially. And the people that I work with are the absolute worst. Clerical staff is the bottom of the barrel, but the rest of the cast of characters are gaining ground in earning my rancor.

One person in particular remains on my nerves. I know she is my replacement. I don't make this lightly. She is my boss's favorite, because she is HIS boss's favorite, owing to the fact that it is his best friend's daughter and he told my boss to hire her for an open management job we had. Whatever the polar opposite of "speaking truth to power" is, that's what my boss does. So he's particularly deferential to her and her "ideas". She's been here almost a year, and it has been a particularly irritating year.

Have you ever seen Robin Williams doing his shtick? The stream of consciousness, everything's a gotdamn joke thing that he does? That's this bitch. I have yet to have a real conversation with her. I'm technically her fucking boss too, and she's just blathering and making light of shit constantly. It's oft-putting and weird. I'd like her to work on projects and I literally just avoid her and go to her highly professional (and more qualified than her) staff. Fucking freak. Other people are starting to notice and making sly mention of her being spazzy. I can't remark on it to them, but it gives me some comfort that it's not just me that notices.

The issue is, I care and I don't care. I think they are grooming my boss for a job in city administration and when his position comes open, I as his deputy, will get leapfrogged. That's the part I care about. Getting skipped over for a promotion and having it handed to a subordinate is embarrassing. I don't wanna be a clown for anybody. The part I don't care about is the job, as I've stated. I wanna go soooo badly, and I'm getting no love out there. I'm going to a career coach next week, so I'm finally soliciting external help to get me the fuck out of here.

I got so many irons on the fire, my name should be Smith. I wish one of them would pay off soon.

Peace,
KZ

Somewhere along the way...

2010-06-04T09:27:00.002-04:00

Somebody made the decision that there were important things to know. I don't know how these important things to know were determined: by a single person, by a tribunal, by happenstance. I can't call it, but there was a subset (or superset) of facts and information or even abstract understanding that was picked out of all things that are knowable and called "vital". The esoteric nature of the emergence of this group of datum is still a mystery to me, perhaps someone's put the origins in a book that I haven't read, which is entirely possible. One thing is certain: if you were/are in relative possession of a mastery of this set of information, you are deemed intelligent. I know a lot of people who are deemed intelligent by the people that deem other people intelligent, themselves deemed by others as intelligent. This declaration comes in the form of citations, diplomas, degrees, advanced degrees, etc. The people I know who are deemed intelligent go on to identify other people of worthy education intelligent. The cycle continues....

My basic understanding, though, is that the information that is used to deem one intelligent is a circumstance of culture, societal norms, and an collective acknowledgment that a person has a sufficient knowledge of the generally acknowledged subset (or superset) of information available. I hear the words intellectual, savant, genius and shit like that bandied about in certain circles, words that are used to imply that the speaker has the gravitas to bestow such designation upon others, giving both the designator and the designated props. If I call Walter Mosley or Spike Lee a genius, I'm taking a little for myself for being able to recognize genius therefore inviting myself to that little party.

I'm saying all that to say this: I don't fucking know anymore. I don't like being a part of this game. If someone says or writes something and I recognize the reference or find a deeper meaning in it, then who the fuck am I to say that they're intelligent? Maybe they're writing down to me. Who knows. What I do know is that the dominant culture makes those rules, period. They dismiss ghetto dwellers and trailer park residents as being "ignorant", but people are playing by entirely different sets of rules than the "mainstream". Is it intelligent if a person from a different cultural understanding to try to go reason with a hostile person if from the "hood" person's observation of similar circumstances and symbolic identifiers tell him the only way to deal with that person is through violent measures? Viewing every situation through one cultural prism distorts the true nature of intelligence. When I say I've seen what I've thought to be true geniuses in the "hood", I'm not trying to be condescending or take any credit for myself for that recognition. People do what I could never do and what I'd never think to do. I'm in awe of it and I refuse to let cultural bias color that.

Intelligence is everywhere. It is nuanced and not concrete.

Peace,
KZ

Should I?

2010-05-10T13:17:00.002-04:00

I was thinking about starting a new blog with photos of fat women in wedding dresses. What do y'all think? I think a fat girl in a wedding dress is the most adorable thing in the world, so I'm trying to gauge interest to see if that's just me. Probably, but still...I like the idea.

After not being able to jumpstart myself on this book I've been writing forever, I'm moving on to a new book. It's part self help book and part novel. It's called Deconstructing K.e.i.s.h.a. and it's gonna be HOT SHIT, my friends. I have a concept and it's sorta like Watchmen, but not a graphic novel and not about superheroes. It's structurally like the Watchmen novel, not content wise. I can't wait to really start it. I've just created the outline for the story, which I usually never do.

I'm trying to wade back into seeing my friends since I live one hour away from them now instead of 2 1/2 hours. I come their way, but I'll be damned if they don't make the occasional drive to my neck of the woods.

Still trying to get out of Satan's Anus employment-wise as soon as I can, but it's not easy. The economy is picking up in some sectors, but not in the public sector. We'll see, I still have many, many irons in the fire.

Be Cool, kids.

KZ

Bad Cop/Horrendous Cop

2010-03-15T15:32:00.004-04:00

Hello folks! How's it going? I needed a little forum to talk about politics a little bit and what I'm feeling right now.

This has been a miserable period of time for me personally when it comes to politics. I was wary of O.bam.a when he started (it's documented on this very blog), but I held my nose and voted, as I've always done. I gave the benefit of the doubt to this man, like I have many people before him. For the first time, I was given the opportunity to vote for a black man for President. Shit, he wasn't Alan Keyes or Clarence Thomas, so at least he wasn't the worst choice as our first black President. I've been doubting that wisdom for a while now.

This two party nonsense has got to stop. We literally have the choice between out and out racist, misogynist, gay-bashing xenophobes, who feed off each others vileness, and covert racists and misogynists, who are dim-witted and cowardly on many fronts, that are too consumed by guilt to outwardly embrace who they really are. And I believe both are working in tandem to ensure absolutely nothing changes for the people who fund this experiment we call "our country".

I most certainly will never, ever vote for the Re.publi.can ticket, but I'm done with the Dem.o.crats too. It's over. I will not vote for another supporter of cowardice and avarice again. I will most certainly vote my conscience, and not give a fuck who actually "wins" because I have been convinced there is ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PARTIES. The De.mo.cr.ats are frauds. I will not jump up and down because you don't call me n*gger to my face, but you look at me and think "n*gger" and treat me as though I should be grateful that you supposedly treat me as an equal. That's a lie. You patronize the fuck out of me, you are definitely not looking out for my best interests. I know this, I've known it for a while and I have no one to blame but myself. I am an unabashed liberal, and I'll vote for liberal candidates, period.

Y'all can have the mainstream. I'll be swimming in a different stream.

KZ

Liquid Courage

2010-03-14T22:06:00.002-04:00

Good day, townsfolks! What's good? I'm a little behind on updating this thing, but I'm here now. I really did have a hell of a lot to write about, but I've forgotten it as soon as I sat down to write.

It is a forgone conclusion that I'm bored. Work sucks, I can't find a new job, I'm in limbo stuck out in the boondocks west of Ann Arbor. I'm not excited in my life or in my career. My wife is fantastic, but we're both bored with shit in general. My saving grace for the past couple of days has been the rain.

Rain melts the fucking snow and that's good enough for me. Sunshine is rare so I'll take the rain as my melting agent.

That's a sad testament when the rain is the only thing you're looking forward to.

OK, back to work folks.

KZ

The Gun Show

2010-01-25T10:31:00.003-05:00

Hey peoples, what's good? I just had a new experience this weekend. I've gone 39 years without ever having held a loaded gun, let alone firing one. And now I'm one step away from being licensed to carry a concealed one. Let me tell you how this happened.

In the summer between my 10th and 11th grade years, my best friend Rodney, accidentally shot himself in the eye. Rodney was a smaller than average kid. Getting fucked with on G.P. just for being small. He was hella cool, and hella smart, but frankly he got sick of being pushed around. He had an Honda Elite scooter and some hard cats on the block decided he didn't deserve it. They let him know the next time he rode past on it, it was theirs. He copped a gun from another set of hard cats on the block. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing with it and he caught a bad one in the eye. I'm still not exactly sure it was an accident, but that's the story I got.

Since, and actually before, then, I had a real antipathy towards guns. Cowards tools, I thought, so I stayed clear of them.

A few years back I got the idea that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have one, because shit, you never know how certain things may play out. We got some bad men out there with some bad intentions, and it you're on the wrong side of their way of thinking, you might become a victim. I was reluctant because then I'd become what I've always hated, a conspiracy minded nutjob. I do happen to live in the town where Tim.o.thy Mc.Vei.gh and the Nic.hol.s Brothers conspired to take down the Fed.eral Building in OK City.

The more I thought about it, and talked to friends about it, the more natural the progression seemed to come. So I signed up for the 8 hour permit to Carry a Concealed Weapon class. I told the instructor that I was a novice and ended up getting a little private instruction away from the class. It was strange to pull that trigger for the first time. There was a lot of power and a slight feeling of dread. After a while, I got into the groove.

After taking the written test (25 out of 26!), the entire class engaged in intruder cappin' scenarios on the gun range. That shit was actually fun, especially the yelling before shooting to give the intruder a chance to run. "Get the fuck outta my house, scumbag!" Fantastic.

In short, it was a great way to release stress, even though I still doubt I'll actually carry a gun around. The sad part is after one class, they'd actually let me.

Peace! (hehehehe)
KZ

Whoosah!

2010-01-19T08:22:00.003-05:00

Ay, yo! How's everybody? I hope you had a good MLK Day. I did, because it included not taking my black ass to work. Of course, everyone else at my job had to work, but I opted out. I think Martin would've wanted it that way.

My attitude towards work isn't as bad as it has been, though. Because I have no pending interviews, no oars in the water, no prospects whatsoever, I don't have an anxious feeling at work anymore. I used to be irritated, like "when are they gonna call me so I can tell my boss 'fuck you'?". Now? Since I'm not waiting for anything, work is just fucking work. And as bad as it gets, it's just something you gotta do. I still think it's just for the time being, but really, who knows?

I take solace in the fact that it's not the actual work. Like most instances, the issue is less the work and more who you have to answer to. I have to answer to not only my boss (fuck that guy), but the community at large (fuck those people). The combination is horrible. If one or the other was worth a fuck, the job wouldn't be so bad. My boss's insistence on sending out 5 staff people to rescue a cat from a tree (not literally, but you get the idea) is frustrating. And the public's insistence on asking for staff in the buildings department to rescue their cat from a tree is frustrating. I can't tell them "no" because it would piss off my boss, and without proper back up from your supervisor you're done. If he made the call that we're not getting involved in shit that our department's not responsible for anymore, the job would work as it should. But he won't cuz he's a chickenshit and when I ask him to do it he wants to talk about his philosophy on governing. Fuck that guy. I hope he chokes on his own vomit in his sleep.

KZ

Stay Classy, Zedediah!

2009-12-31T11:57:00.004-05:00

I love complaining. I love complaining more than I love my mother's cooking, and that's saying something. I complain about everything in the midst of doing anything! "Damn, this pussy is kinda tight. And it's awfully wet. But it really could be tighter and wetter." I know, I suck. But 2009 was really something to complain about.

In general it was a fucked up year for me. Housing woes, job search woes, money problems, health scares, staff issues, boss issues, dumb ass constituents, and lousy luck overall. I've had trite, cliched moments happen to me, that I should have seen coming, but didn't. I've had one in a thousand type things happen hat would ONLY happen to me. For better or for worse here I am.

I'm not any more humbled, cuz really, fuck humility. And I'm not more determined to turn over a new leaf, cuz really, fuck leaves. I'm not going to do anything but the shit that has made me quasi-successful to this point and understand that there are, in fact, things that I can't change.

With that being said, I'd like to wish both of you readers a Happy New Year and hope that you party like a muthafucka to bury this lousy fucking year.

Peace,
KZ

P.S. I didn't get that fucking Raleigh job, either.

Sucker Time

2009-12-08T08:52:00.003-05:00

Hey everybody! What's good? There's nothing going on with me. I got a rejection letter from Baltimore, I'm waiting on what Raleigh has to say, so in the meantime I am where I am. Satan's Anus is horrible still, but at least I don't have to LIVE and work here. One out of two ain't bad.

The interview I had in Raleigh right before Thanksgiving was interesting. Interesting in the fact that the guy I interviewed with reminds me of my current boss (bad) , and one of the people who would possibly be under me tried to compliment me by calling me "articulate". He better hope I don't get the gig. I'm watching his ass already.

Otherwise I'm just trying to cope with Sucker Time and not get suckered too badly by fake deals, mall related scams, thievery, debauchery, and/or general chicanery. We really do spend too much fucking money on worthless shit during this time of year. I genuinely can't remember what I got for Christmas last year, though I'm sure I was pleased with it at the time. That means I likely didn't need it. I'm not 6, it's ok to pass on my gift, I'll survive. I have yet to talk to another person in my family that feels that same. So I'm out here at Sucker Time trying to do my best, just like everyone else.

Peace,
KZ

Slaying of murder witness in Detroit leaves trail of fear | detnews.com | The Detroit News

2009-11-13T15:27:00.001-05:00

Slaying of murder witness in Detroit leaves trail of fear | detnews.com | The Detroit News

A word of advice: If you're not going to raise your kids, please drown them in a fucking bathtub before they kill mine.

KZ

Village Idiot

2009-11-09T16:07:00.006-05:00

So, I'm moving right? Second weekend in a row. First my stuff from Satan's Anus, then her stuff from the D. This weekend was the stuff from the D. All's well. Our team, after initially flaking out, comes together and the move is swift. Even though we lost the keys for about 40 minutes in the D, the move was still a rousing success. Now to get the stuff from point A to point B. I got the personnel and I got the will. No biggie, right?

Remember having sex as a virgin?

When I tried to get this truck through that hole, it got stuck. The only road to get in and out of the village was clogged by the town's new black guy and his fucking moving truck. For an hour and a half.

The pint sized cop came up to me and said "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" "Excuse me?" "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" I turned my back to him, because saying "Fuck you Fidget!" would be impolitic. I guess it would be a dumb mistake if a) The height of the truck was written somewhere, anywhere in or on the truck so I could make a comparison, or b) I'd gotten stuck last week when I drove through this same fucking tunnel in a gotdamn moving truck!

So after paying the tow truck driver to wench me out, and getting the citation from the Fidget (fucking midget) for "ignoring a traffic control device", and filling up the gotdamn gigantic gas tank with diesel and the cost of renting the fucking truck, it would have been cheaper to hire movers and have me and TAD sipping Pina Coladas in our new digs waiting for our furniture to come.

I was a gotdamn newsstory, a one day oddity in the village. And a story to tell my kids.

Peace,
KZ

Doubt

2009-11-06T10:25:00.002-05:00

Doubt is a powerful thing. I doubt myself all the time, usually in matters that aren't important, but they still take up a lot of my time. For instance, when I'm in a meeting, I quite often start to daydream. My mind drifts and I think of everything except the reason we've been assembled. When I'm shaken from my daze, usually by someone asking what I think about the subject matter, I give some vague answer. The thing is, because I'm disengaged I think that I'll have a wrong or misinformed answer. I doubt myself, but most of the time I enter the meeting with a pre-determined set of actions and alternatives because the meeting is not necessary. Rarely do I respond with the pre-determined actions, I always give the vague, bullshit answer. Why? Because I think that the people who have spent a lot of time discussing and hashing out things have a better handle on them than I do. 99.9% of the time, I'm wrong about that. I could have come into the meeting with the solution. I let doubt take over because really that's my comfort zone.

I'm asked to speak at a dizzying number of places in Satan's Anus and I reluctantly accept. I used to hem and haw my way through the speech, hoping to reach the end and mercifully sit down or leave. The one thing I never counted on until recently is the doubt in the majority of the audience. Give me a mike and some notes, and all of a sudden I become the expert. You might have a different opinion or a different set of facts, but I got the mike bitch! Subverting my self-doubt and replacing it with arrogance and an embrace of the inherent power of standing before a crowd and imposing your own knowledge has been a revelation.

I leave my doubt for my personal life. I've abandoned it as a profession. It took me long enough, but I'm there.

Peace,
KZ

Real Shit That I Saw In Baltimore Yesterday

2009-11-03T15:28:00.002-05:00

More heroin addicts than I've even seen in a single place in my life.
Open air sale of said heroin, by a gentleman that kept chanting the brand name of the dope.
A manchild who spent the entirety of his time on public transit telling this chick how dope he was at working his program at Potbelly's.
An Ethiopian cab driver using Garmin to get me to my destination.
A municipal park bench, emblazoned with the motto "Baltimore - The Greatest City In America".
A secretary in a professional office wearing a hoodie and Timbos.
A black quasi-lumberjack wearing leather suspenders.

Peace,
KZ

Chaos Reigns

2009-10-28T11:36:00.002-04:00

What up Africans? I'm finally doing it, I'm moving to a "central" location between Satan's Anus and The D so I can live with my wife. For those of y'all that didn't know, moving sucks dick, and not in that pleasant way that I enjoy so very much.

I just got back from Puerto Rico, and for the record, the chicks are overrated (they try TOO hard), the food is underrated, and you can make a killing if you open a store that solely sells stacked heels. Incidentally, that portion of Africanness that inhabits the Puerto Rican genetic makeup seems to rule as far as timeliness and general attitude. Also, for the first time in my life, I got sunburned, so that's something. Anyway, we went for our first anniversary. It was a good trip to take and a precursor to the bigger trips we're planning, like to the Mediterranean, which I just realized as I wrote it, looks like it means "Middle Ground", which is where she and I are moving to in Michigan.

This post came full circle. Imagine that.

Peace,
KZ

Notes From Pervertland

2009-10-07T16:38:00.003-04:00

I don't know if this is a fleeting fascination or what, but I've just had a series of weird thoughts. I'm intrigued by juxtaposition of status as it relates to death. Like, I'm fascinated by the chairperson of the Society for Sexual Supression and Moral Indignation dying of because of faulty wiring on a vibrator her longtime lesbian lover was using on her. Or otherwise, a super strung out heroin addict and all around creep getting hit by a bus while saving a child from getting run over. I been thinking about this a lot lately, and I was thinking, if you're not suicidal or have a lingering illness, it's pretty hard to choose how you die. So you gotta be on your toes. Like being extra careful when you do the skeevy shit you do. Or if you're skeevy all the time, you might wanna do dangerous shit in service of other people every so often, and maybe that's how you're remembered.

These are the things I think about when I'm on my couch in my underwear alone, masturbating with Fleshy.

KZ

P.S. I checked out of FB for awhile. Deactivated my account, so if you're looking for me I'm here. Honestly, I now remember the reason why I stopped fuckin' with people I went to high school with.

The American Rodeo

2009-10-05T16:50:00.004-04:00

You know there are people out there who are getting rich off of nostalgia and societal vanity? Do you know that if you used to be something or someone, or if you have the good fortune of having won the genetic aesthetic lottery, you could be rich beyond your wildest dreams? Well it's true! Welcome to the American Rodeo, where dick-riding is a sport!

You remember that last Morris Chestnut movie you went to? It wasn't very good was it? Why did you go? Do you remember? Was it because Morris is the next James Earl Jones, with a smooth speaking voice and the ability to manufacture pathos with his line readings? Or did he keep his shirt off for most of the movie? Congratulations, you just put money in an African's pocket for nothing.

Hey, remember that strip club you went to last night? Yeah, that broad had a beautiful ass. You musta blew a couple hun on that chick. Went home with a hard dick, didn't you? You know what she went home with? A couple hundred of your dollars and another African. Congratulations, you coulda got a bullshit dance like that at home for free.

I'm at my wits end. Everybody thinks it's OK in 2009 to dick ride. That shit was verboten where I'm from, when I came up. Now, we do it en masse, every chance we get. I've been called a hater for calling it out, apparently I'm jealous because I'm not getting money or I'm not fine enough to get my dick ridden. OK, if that shit makes you feel comfortable, go with it. But I'm telling you I'm not for giving unearned kudos to anybody. Fuck 'em and fuck you too, groupie.

KZ

Reassessment Day

2009-09-15T20:24:00.002-04:00

I'm writing today in defense of uppity n*ggers. I'm retracting my blog dissing Skip Gates. I'm toasting him, along with Kanye, Serena, and B.O. I don't even want to conflate these people, but apparently that shit is happening anyway. As they stand under attack, two of them exhibiting extremely boorish behavior, I've decided to stand with them. Fuck it. I was born here, raised here, given your name, given your code of conduct, followed it, took you values, aspired to your dreams, and every time I deviate from that path, even a little, you're there to tell me what a fuck up I am. Man, fuck you! If I stand on my own two, have an opinion that is contrary to what you call "conventional" wisdom, I'm out of line. Honestly, I no longer give a fuck. If your feelings get hurt or if your status is dinged, so be it. I don't condone physical harm coming to you, but really, I wouldn't be surprised if it came to that.

I also have a problem with asking the fucking President about Kanye. What the fuck do those two people have in common? Tell me, what? Chicagoans? Yeah, that must be it. I wish the President wouldn't weigh in on that shit, but like I said, fuck it. He's a man and he's earned the right to say what the fuck he wants to say. Honestly, today, I'm holding America accountable. America, and the spoils that come with being American, belong to all of us, each and every citizen. Unconditionally.

I've said what the fuck I have to say.

KZ

The Rest, Without Peace

2009-09-02T22:52:00.002-04:00

Right now I resent the connections I've made with all y'all muthafuckas. Because if something happens to another one of you, I'm going to fucking lose it completely.

That's all.

KZ

Write To Believe

2009-08-31T14:55:00.002-04:00

A testament on how lazy a writer I've become will be evidenced on the following lines. You see, we have lost an amazing writer today. Nikki Harris was truly on some other shit. If you weren't a reader, I'm sure the archives are accessible. The link is on my blogroll under DeliciousClam.

But the reason I've called myself out on the writing tip is simply this: I want to make this post about Nikki, but it's gonna come out being all about me.

I started blogging with the intention of being as raw as possible. I used to read Nikki and realize a fatal flaw in my writing. It wasn't that I was raw, it was that I was mean. Nikki had the ability to be as raw as they come, but there was an emotion, a passion, a REALNESS underneath it all. Realness is a word that gets thrown around much too often, but it's what comes to mind when I think of Nikki and her blog.

I was a part of a couple of online writing groups with Nikki once upon a time. We (she, I, in one incarnation, Will, and a couple of other bloggers) would come up with writing assignments, as difficult as we could make them and try to write to them. It was fun and breezy, but it allowed us to witness each other at the height of our imaginative powers. I appreciated the push.

I've been writing recreationally for the past couple of weeks after a lengthy layoff. I'd say it was due to being blocked, but really it was due to being scared that my talent isn't what I think it is. I read Nikki, Hassan, Slish, Nisa, Allison, et al, and I think "Why the f*ck do I even pretend to call myself a writer?" I've come to the conclusion that I write because I can. It comes easy to me. But when I read a writer like Nikki, I know there's a depth that I can tap, another level I can reach that I'm not coming close to yet. I can go deeper. And I have my muse.

-Knockout Zed.

Just wondering...

2009-08-21T17:08:00.003-04:00

I'm waiting for everybody to leave the office so that I don't have to make that fucking weekend based small talk that people insist on making. I seriously think I might have social anxiety disorder. I fucking HATE talking to people, and that's the crux of my job. I talk to people about city wide decisions, usually in a public forum, but increasingly in a face to face situation. Muthafuckas don't stop talking, ever, unless I tell them the conversation has to end. And that's getting to be a problem, because I can't even allow the conversation to start anymore. I'm avoiding 'em like nobody's business.

I'm waiting for the fat, gassy bastard that's in the office next to mine to leave right now, simply because I don't wanna say "enjoy your weekend" to that smelly fucker. Yeah, I know it's sad, but I can't help it.

Gotdamn it! Some bastard just came into my office to say "have a nice weekend", right as I wrote that last sentence. Seriously, fuck that guy.

Well, I'm about to bite the bullet because sitting here is worse torture than talking to these fuckers.

Peace,
KZ

Cocoonville

2009-08-03T22:53:00.002-04:00

Something's off. I can't put my finger on it, but it is. I feel like retreating from the world entirely. Disconnecting cable, ditching DSL, stomping out my celly, the whole nine. I'm overstimulated. I can't stand the outside world. At TAD's crib, she doesn't have internet or cable, and whenever I leave there and come home, I feel remarkably refreshed. On top of that I can turn off my phone and not feel like I'm missing anything. I know all this is specious reasoning. I obviously feel better because I'm spending time with my wife. But seriously, when I come back to Satan's Anus, I'm inundated with THE WORLD. News, important and unimportant, phone calls, emails, Facebook, and other bullshit overwhelm me. That urgency seeps back into my life, even though none of it is really urgent at all. I don't miss my favorite TV program until I'm reminded that I missed it. Fuck the 3,000 th forward from my Uncle Louie on the N.U.D. certain companies employ. I'm perfectly OK missing out. I didn't used to be, but now, I think I can take it.

Will I be perceived as a freak if I retreat from the world? Nobody would even know about the cable thing. The internet thing would be the hardest, but I could easily make that up at work. And if I only answered TAD and my mother's calls, I don't think I'd be missed. It might be worth a trial run.

Peace,
KZ

Big Titties In A Dirty Bra

2009-07-29T10:00:00.000-04:00

You're gainfully employed in a horrible economy, but it's in a job you despise, one that steals your soul and make you wish you were dead. Your in-laws will watch your kids anytime you want, for as long as you need without complaint, but they feed your kids bacon and candy non-stop. You are as physically and mentally fit as you've ever been in your life, but tomorrow you're being shipped to Afghanistan to chase boogeymen. This is where I am in my life. I picked up a girl with big titties, but she's wearing a dirty bra. Not literally, follow me for a sec.

It's the mixed blessing thing. I've got a beautiful wife, but I only see her on weekends. I've got a stable job, but I feel like jumping off a gotdamn roof every time I have to walk into my office. I'm healthy and sharp, and I'm wasting in Satan's Anus, the capitol of Backwoods/Jerkwater, Michigan. I feel like I'm incapable of being happy, but that's not the case. I'm incapable of faking it. I have been and can be happy, but I know better than to settle for it, like this shit is as good as it gets. Yeah, everybody has problems, but I know there's a possibility, even with all the other problems in the world, real, attainable happiness is within my reach. Now, if I can only get that bra to landromat...

KZ

Man, Fuck You

2009-07-22T22:09:00.002-04:00

I understand how I'm supposed to feel and how I've been told to feel, but Imma hafta say it. Fuck Skip Gates. That's right I said it.

Police, by and large, are dickheads and assholes. They are some of the worst fucking human beings with some of the most outsized egos going. EVERYBODY knows that shit. EV-RY-BOD-EEE. I know Harvard makes you feel like you're King Dick and shit, but truth be told, it took your dumb ass 58 years to learn what we all know, don't press your fucking luck with an obviously insecure, undereducated glorified security guard. You will lose. You won't win. You may win in the long term, but short term, he'll use all of his "power", which at that point is a gun and the ability to arrest you, to make your life miserable. Your "power" may win out in the end, but he's got your ass in the now. Every fucking African I know knows that, and I know some stupid muthafuckas.

I get it. You're SUPPOSED to be equal, and be treated better than your run of the mill African. The reality of the situation is that there is a history of Black men and police officers in this country. When the fuck have you ever been able to tell a police officer anywhere in the gotdamn world "Do you know who I am?", or any variation of that sentiment, and be let go? To arrest a "prominent" man is to get a feather in his cap, at least temporarily, from superiors. That shows that we don't play favorites in this department. Black celebrities or whatever are not exempt from this.

I know we're supposed to have made it, this being the Age of Obama and all, but I fucking know better. Most of us know better. Skip should too.

Fuck him.

KZ

The Blast I Had

2009-07-16T08:09:00.002-04:00

Hello all! I've been back in Satan's Anus for about 2 days now, and I'm so ready to leave again. I had a great time on vacation in Florida. I visited my parents in Tampa, which is almost never fun, went to Disney World for the first time since I was 8, and I drove to Miami with my wife, my brother and my brother in law to kick it with my cousin and my play cousin. That's right, I said it. Play cousin.

Anyway, the part of the trip I want to talk about is the Miami leg. This time I didn't get my pocket picked, but in many ways it was much worse. Going to see my cousin Juan was one of the most infuriating things I've done in awhile. Juan is my older cousin, he's about 8 years older than me. I used to look up to him. He was born and raised in Tampa, and came to live in Detroit after college, when I was about 12. He was like a second brother. I'd glossed over some irritating habits he had, like extreme frugality, because he'd always been alright with me.

Man, this dude is a f*cking trip. He's hit a lick since he moved to Miami. Juan is married to a chick now that makes money in bunches. He loves the trappings of her loot. The house, the cars, the atmosphere, everything. But he's still cheap. He made it a point to basically beg me and my other relatives to come down and see how he's living, so he could flex about how live he is. It bugged the shit out of me. I tried to be happy for him, I really did, but I don't like bragging motherfuckers. Call me a hater, but I'm not gonna listen to you ride your own dick for too long.

The thing about him is, he loves those trappings of success, but he's still a cheapskate at heart. He promised he was going to set it out for us. My hand to God, TAD is my witness, this African called his boy, a upscale chef, to come to his house and fry fish and shrimp in a gotdamn Frybaby and was like "What n*gga? My boy is a chef and he's doing it big up in here." Like we were supposed to be impressed by that shit. I understand his boy's high falutin' credentials, but shit, it's still dropping fucking fish in a fry-o-lator. Juan was gonna put us on to some shit, so he bought some Hennessy White. A single fifth. For about 8 people to share. That's a baller for you.

My play cousin showed up and was instantly more fun than my actual cousin. My play cousin, Chief, has an interesting story. He's my brother's age and grew up with him in the D. Our parents all grew up together in Tampa and moved to Detroit in the 60's. He's like family, but not family. When Chief graduated from high school back in 1980, he was determined to be a MC. Think about that. Hip hop basically hit the scene in 1979 and in 1980 Chief decided he was gonna be down. He toiled and made demos, joined a group, did local gigs, and tried. He eventually moved to the NYC in '84 or '85 and stayed up and down the east coast pursuing his dream. He met some interesting people, some of whom made it, but most of them didn't. One of his former roommates, and close friend to this day, is DJ Jazzy Jeff. Incidentally, Jazzy Jeff had a gig the next day and Chief was putting us on the VIP list. That would be the highlight of the trip.

After the fish and shrimp, he had us parking lot pimpin' a John Legend concert. He told us about the concert before we came as part of his weekend activities for us, then he PARKING LOT PIMPED IT, like we were gotdamn teenagers. With my wife. What the fuck? We would have bought our own tickets for the concert, all he had to do was get us there. But he thought it would be more fun for us if we stood outside and watched people walk out. Asshole!

He then took us to a spot where we were clearly the oldest people there. My cousin, brother, and brother-in-law are all around 8 years older than me. I, in turn, am 8 years older than my wife. She was at least 8 years older than most of the patrons at this club we went to. It was wack and awkward, but it was free, and that's all that counted to my cousin.

The next day, he took us out to sightsee. Though me and my brother in law drove separately in Ford Explorers with third row seats, my cousin insisted that the five of us big muthafuckers ride in his Lexus sedan. Why? There was no discernable reason for his insistence other than he wanted to ride around in style while the rest of us were uncomfortable smashed in the backseat.

In spite of the fact that he lives adjacent to Ft. Lauderdale and north of Miami, this ass took us driving around looking at the gated communities that famous people live in near him. Nobody was interested in that shit, but he had to show us that he was in proximity to greatness. Mind you, we couldn't actually see the houses because we couldn't get through the gates. He was pointing to shit that we could theoretically see if we were permitted through the gates. Who the fuck is that fun for? We were all aching in that car, so to give us a chance to stretch our legs, he finally drove us to Miami. Finally!

Where did he take us exactly. The racetrack. Not the gotdamn beach, not shopping, but to the horse track. Free admission is hard to pass up.

After we finally escaped back to his house, we got ready for the Jazzy Jeff gig. TAD was meeting up with her girls, who came down to Miami for their annual girls' trip, and was essentially the entire reason we scheduled the side trip to Miami. While she was kicking it with them, I was gonna be on Ocean Drive with my family. Then we'd meet back up with TAD to go see Jazzy Jeff.

My baller cousin once again amazed me. Juan had to show us how he was setting it out for us, so he was gonna treat us to dinner. If you've ever been on South Beach, you know the amazing restaurants they have. If you haven't been, you probably could imagine how it is. I'm not a vagrant. I'm not rich by any means, but I'm not a pauper. I like nice things sometimes and would like to enjoy myself on vacation. That being said, of all the restaurants on South Beach, of all the various cuisines we had to choose from, ballerific Juan insisted that he take us to the corner of 5th and Ocean to fucking T.G.I. Friday's, his treat. I'm trying not to rock the boat, because at this point I'm the only one of my relatives that's pissed, so I settle down and order the salmon pasta, because lord knows that on Ocean Drive, Friday's has the freshest seafood.

I couldn't get to the Jazzy Jeff show fast enough. We reconnected with my wife, who incidentally had a great meal with her girls at Lario's Cuban Cuisine, slipped through the backdoor at Club Mansion and sat on the stage with Jazzy Jeff on couches with free liquor while he spun the room into a frenzy.

I got to meet a hip hop luminary that night, that's the only story that matters. Everything else was exposition.

Peace,
KZ

The Other

2009-06-17T12:10:00.006-04:00

Facebook is the font of non-stop hilarity. I really am addicted, even though I can't really be MYSELF on it. Too many rubbernecking assed Satan's Anusians tracking my movement. As much as I neglect it, I love the blog for all the reasons I hate Facebook: a certain level of anonymity and an opportunity for unbridled misanthropy. Ready? Here goes....

Muthafuckers I hated in high school are my "friends" now. Man, fuck 'em, fuck 'em all. 20 years of bad choices has manifested itself in their mugs. People who I'd actually look forward to finding after all these years, I can't find. The ones I have are the same misspelling, quasi-literate, all caps typing ape-people I remember.

Hey, Loudy! I remember you! You got caught sucking 2 football players' dicks in the boys' locker room after football practice. Didn't think I'd remember that, hunh? If unattractive, loud, hyper-religious, and fashion challenged were signs of positive karma, you'd be a $500 million winning Powerball ticket. I'm unfriending your ass tonight.

People from college aren't much better, but they are better. This one lame ass dude, who's incidentally quite successful now, married this beauty queen from college. They have 3 kids together, 2 girls and a boy. It's really unfortunate that those girls are the spitting image of his ugly ass and not his pretty wife, but I can't hold him accountable for that. Hell, that shit might happen to me! I actually like the guy quite a bit. But his status updates are always inevitably about how live he is. Not how happy he is, or how much he loves his family, but how he's the shit and we should all bow down. Good luck with that, Fido. Your ass is hist.

I'm not saying this shit to kiss up, but I appreciate the bloggers on FB more than anything. Maybe it's because I kinda "know" y'all in the here and now. I hate reminiscing and remembrances and shit. With most of my FB friends, that's all I got.

Be Good,
KZ

The Gift That No Longer Gets Shot

2009-06-02T09:11:00.003-04:00

I was just thinking about how much my life has changed in a fairly short period of time and it occurred to me: I would much rather eat great food than have great sex.

When the fuck did that happen? When did my fat ass take over from my fat dick? And how can I reverse the change?

Actually, I'm not sure I want to reverse the change. I find myself not seeking out porno when I get home (at least not ALL the time), but I read about hot restaurants, recipes, and cooking techniques that enhance the flavor. I bemoan the fact that my cooking skills suck and that I don't have ready access to Michelin starred greatness. More than anything, I regret that I don't get to eat more good stuff more often. Fuck more often, more like never.

It's the kind of complaint I used to lodge in regards to my sex life. But right now, I don't really give a fuck. I just wanna eat well.

Be cool,
KZ

The Fuckshit Chronicles

2009-05-28T11:32:00.002-04:00

Hey peoples, what's good? I'm still at my muddafuckin' job, doing muddafuckin' everything I can do to leave, to no avail. In the process, I've fucked around and stayed up until I have to do a massive project, a project that involves a great deal of public involvement. And I have to coordinate the level of public involvement.

If you haven't figured it out, Satan's Anus is full of bastards and bitches who know everything. Deez muddafuckas always have something to say. So you give them a forum and the time to say everything they want to say, and then when it's time to vote on the approval/disapproval of a proposal, they'll claim they weren't given enough time to say what they wanted to say. That's even if THEIR POINT OF VIEW WINS!!! That's that ol' fuckshit right there.

So I have to spend my summer doing public input sessions for 72,000 people (much less than that really because as a college town, 25,000 of those people are students). Now that doesn't seem like a lot, and in most instances it's not. I worked for the City of Detroit, and we did public input for 1,000,000 people.

Let me tell you it was much less hassle than doing it for THESE 72,000 fuckers. Reason being, Detroit is overwhelmingly Black. Black people have different jobs. They are fucking exhausted from working to make other people's lives easier than to talk all fucking night at a meeting. Unless I'm out there proposing to build a fucking freeway on top of their house, they ain't comin' out. They are resting up for the next day. Another thing is culturally, we're really not trying to prove to anybody how fucking brainy we are. These meetings become a source of intellectual one-upsmanship in the community. Each bastard trying to bring up a heretofore overlooked fact, much more salient that any other fact presented. Africans come out to tell you fuck what you think and they sit back down. No explanation of why you suck, just that you suck. I'm all for that brevity.

My first public input meeting as a staff member in the City of Detroit consisted of telling a room of 450 people that we were planning to build new houses in their neighborhood. I got threatened, berated, dissed, called out, and basically told to sit the fuck down. That one meeting was more fulfilling and meaningful than the hundreds of meetings I've attended as a Satan's Anus employee, because they cut to the fucking chase and didn't waste my time with all that fuckshit. That's all I'm saying.

Peace,
KZ

Everybody's Turned Bitch

2009-05-10T22:45:00.004-04:00

It's a sad day in Black America. Today I just about had it and was about to flat out quit Facebook. It seems like everytime I get a status update from one of my male friends, they are doing the most bitch assed shit in the world. I'm talking about cats that come from some of the roughest circumstances in the roughest hoods going, talking about "Off to get my poodle a trim" or "Picking daisies with my oldest son". This shit is disheartening. I'm not much better. "I'm headed to yoga class" or "I miss my sweetie". That's some old bullshit. My father's got skin made of steel. My mother is notorious for being hardcore. And I'm out here shitting on the family reputation.

We're all victims of our relative success. When you see and experience nice shit, you tend to gravitate to it. So when my boy sends a status update like "I just finished baking popovers", I guess that African just wanted some fucking popovers, as bitch like as that may be. Who am I to judge?

I just can't keep reading this shit. Cats with a real rooting interest in "Sunday's Best", muthafuckers grabbing their snacks gearing up for a new episode of "Grey's Anatomy" or about to settle down with the latest issue of "Cat Fancy". I think I'm legitimately going to opt out and stick to this blog.

Peace,
KZ

Demitasse

2009-05-06T17:04:00.002-04:00

I'm sitting at work, waiting for the secretaries to leave. It's a daily ritual. I wait so that I don't have to see them or talk to them as I walk out of the lobby. They are, for lack or desire to find a more polite term, stupid. I don't like making small talk about them having a nice evening. I hope they have a fucking horrible evening, because once again, they've made my day hellish.

"Sit the fuck down, shut the fuck up" is the silent mantra I have on repeat in my head as they darken my doorstep with another stupid inquiry, missive, or joke they'd like to share. "Fuck y'all" I quietly whisper as I walk past to go to the restroom or another endless meeting.

As stupid and useless as I think they are, I save the most venom for HR, who are clueless and feeble-minded. The "experts" in all things in regards to hiring, benefits, and "the rules", still inevitably call me six to seven times a day to ask me what to do next about any situation involving one of my staff. How the fuck am I supposed to know what to do next? That's why I sent them to you! Everyday is an episode of "Life Goes On" and I'm getting called by "Corky" every two fucking minutes.

That's all I got.

Peace,
KZ

Profundity

2009-04-21T16:53:00.001-04:00

There are no words more fun to say in the English language than "haywire" and "firearm". I don't know if it's the compound word aspect or what, but damn I love saying them.

You know that line in Forrest Gump where he says "Life is like a box of chocolates..."? Well if you replace the word "chocolates" with "pussies", you can pretty much leave me alone with that box.

What does it say about me that I'd feel like a bigger pervert going into a Hooters under the cover of darkness than I would walking into the freakiest hardcore sex shop in broad daylight?

Why doesn't anyone understand that if your boss was as good as your job as you are, they would have NEVER promoted him/her? If you're too good at what you do, you're pretty much fucked. You gotta be passable.

Conservative = unapologetic bigot/white supremacist (regardless of their color), Liberal = undercover racist/condescending asshole, Libertarian = anarchist cheapskate except when it comes to roads leading to his subdivision and police protection for his family, Progressive = hippie goofball with too much fucking free time. This is why I hate labels. I think most of us are a healthy mix of all these archetypes.

Right now, I have a womanly addiction to shoe shopping that I'm not proud of.

Best bumpersticker I've seen in my whole life: "Illegal Shit B Fun".

KZ

Hot Pickle

2009-04-15T16:14:00.004-04:00

Hey peoples, what gives? I got back from NYC on Monday, which was a much needed trip for me and the wife. I hate people, and New York is full of people, but as an anonymous member of the rabble, it's not bad. People hated me as much as I hated them! That was a treat. We did some touristy shit, like go to the Guggen.heim (which was some bullshit!) and go to the top of Rockefe.ller Center (which was tall), but mainly we just hung out and ate. We tried to shop, but couldn't find the "spots". Lack of research, I suppose. We had fun anyway, even though the knish I ate tasted like rat pussy.

We hung out with Slish a little bit and drank at one of his spots. Slish is insane, yo, just in case y'all didn't know. It was TAD's first time kickin' with him, but as an avid reader of his blog, it was like old times up in the joint with those two. Good lookin' out, young man. It was certainly appreciated. What you don't know, Slish, is that night after drinking, I went back to the hotel and worked out for an hour and a half. I never sleep on my program!

The visit helped reinforce my desire to move east. Man, I fucking hate this place. I just left the store where this faux gangster ass pussy boi was behind me in line, "Africaning up" his language trying to be hard. "Yo, man, you got some hot pickles? Where the hot pickles? Dude, why you ain't tell me you moved the hot pickles?" That's some real gangsta shit right there. Suckin' on a hot pickle, you purty mouthed bitch. Get me the fuck outta here.

KZ

The Tournament

2009-04-08T14:36:00.003-04:00

Staff Member: It must suck to be a Spartan fan right now, hunh?

KZ: No, it's OK. I'm still your boss.

Go Green! Forever.

KZ

Plans

2009-04-07T14:44:00.002-04:00

I make plans all the time. And we all know the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. But my plan for 2009 started in July 2008. It's when I decided to make myself more physically fit. I'm not doing it for my general health or anything of real value. I just wanna look good in my clothes. I call my plan "The 40-Year Old Linebacker", though that's really a misnomer, since I won't be 40 until December 2010. My goal is simple, to be in the best shape of my life and punch muthafuckers in the mouth when irritated. I could always punch muthafuckers in their mouths, but now I won't have to run afterwards to keep from getting my ass kicked.

The results so far have been a weight reduction from 330 to 275, increased energy, clothes that don't fit, and confidence that's off the charts. It's a great feeling and I still have quite a ways to go, but it's a start.

Lately though the plans have been getting bogged down. I'm too self-satisfied, too hungry, too bored, too blah. I need motivation. What the fuck am I doing this for? For women? I'm married, and she don't give a fuck. For health? This is a miserable way to live. For vanity? I don't care enough. I'm just losing steam right now. Every thing I do seems for nothing, and I have so far to go to get to 235-240, which is my goal.

I need to come up with a new plan.

KZ

Gimme Three Feet

2009-04-01T12:10:00.002-04:00

OK, I know y'all sick of me tilling the same soil, but I remain irritated by the same bullshit. This is my forum to spout off and I'll take full advantage of it.

I went to the gym midday yesterday so that I could go home after work and just veg out. After my workout, I had to go to the shower. When I workout after work, I usually go home and shower, but the necessity of going back to work had me in the communal shower. I entered the empty shower room, twenty six spigots available, I pick one and begin to shower. Less than one minute later, this old dude comes into the shower room, stands at the spigot RIGHT NEXT TO MINE and starts to shower. Not one space over, right next to mine. Naked and showering. In a completely empty shower room. What the fuck is people's problem? How the fuck is that OK? Who the fuck does that? Apparently people in Satan's Anus on the reg.

The day before the gym incident, I went to see the State of the City address given by the mayor. I sat in a COMPLETELY EMPTY ROW. I didn't expect the row to remain empty, because the place was pretty full. What I really didn't expect was that the next person to inhabit the row would sit in the seat RIGHT NEXT TO ME, sharing a fucking armrest. In an empty row, why the fuck would you sit right next to a stranger, especially a stranger of the same sex? Who the fuck does that?

A few weeks ago TAD and I went to the movies. It was a virtually empty movie theater, with literally two other couples in the place. We sat four seats in on an empty row. Two couples came in together, in an empty theater, and sat in the four seats we left empty next to us, sharing an armrest with us in a vacant theater. We hopped up and moved WAAAAAYYY down the row, because there were 20 open seats that remained. The group watched us move and laughed about it while wondering what our problem was. Amazing.

Whether it be casual conversation, restroom stalls, standing behind you waiting to use the ATM, driving in traffic, whatever, these muthafuckers have spatial issues that are mind boggling and ridiculous. One more reason I wish throat punching was the law of the land.

Peace,
KZ

Detroit Green

2009-03-27T10:21:00.002-04:00

What up, y'all? I was biding my time trying to gather my thoughts to post again. I have a lot of shit swimming around in my head. None of it all that urgent, but it's cluttered up there.

First off, I'd like to give a special shout out to one of my favorite (if not favorite) bloggers in the world, Aunt Jackie a.k.a. Ms. Ahmad a.k.a. The Glamazon, who graced me and TAD with her presence last Friday. We had a relatively short visit (why didn't you call, man?) but we got to laugh, break bread, drink and watch people. It felt like we've known each other forever and it's been about 4 blog years. We know blog years are longer than human years due to the level of disclosure we have online, so it was like eating with an old friend. I think we got a chance to witness somebody being relieved of their auto against their will, and that's always fun. We'll be in California soon, and we'll be wearing neutral colors.

I'm back in Satan's Anus still waiting on my reimbursement check and my rejection letter. Job hunting is hard, yo. I'm not looking right now. No other resumes have been sent out. It's sort of a weird time for me. Where I'm actually concentrating on "working" at my current "job". It's something I've never tried before. Also, I'm forced to think about where we are going to invest our forthcoming stimulus loot. Everybody with half a hustle has their hands out trying to get a contract with wth city to do a project that's not helpful or stimulating to anyone but themselves. I would personally issue a blanket "fuck you" to all comers, but of course my slack ass boss has made it my job to have meetings with these jack leg entrepreneurs as often as possible. Honestly, fuck this place.

I was driving with some co-workers to this Junior Achievement thing we were doing at one of the local high schools. Of course, I drive like I have some place to go, so that's really off-putting to native Anusites. One of my passengers was gape-mouthed because I sped through a yellow light. She asked me "Why didn't you slow down?" I said "Because yellow is a Detroit Green. It's a Satan's Anus Red." That's how I feel about this community as a whole. Mentally, I'm always trying to go and they're always trying to slow me down and keep me preoccupied with "the other" shit. I'm so sick of the other shit, but I'll do it until I can leave.

Peace,
KZ

The Process

2009-03-17T09:08:00.004-04:00

I spent Friday on airplanes (four of 'em), in airports (four of 'em) on a several hour tour (three of 'em) of a city I may or may not want to have a hand in redeveloping, and an hour (just one of 'em) trying to explain my suitability for a job I'm probably not suitable for.

I was asked to be in Western Massachusetts for a face-to-face interview. This was after a phone interview that I completely bombed. Why did they want me to come to follow up that performance? I pretty much said "Fuck it" and went anyway. It's a free trip (they're reimbursing me for it) and I might like it.

My biggest impression was "Wow, there are a lot of Latinos here!" I didn't imagine that there would be such a big representation of Puerto Ricans out in the middle of nowhere. The second thought was "Shit they need a lot of help". I'm inherently lazy. It's the reason I write a blog instead of writing a book. Instant gratification over a long, drawn out process. That's what I like.

So after the first part of the tour, I ate lunch with my potential staff, the department heads that would be below me. I'd like to take this time to once again thank Ba.rack O.ba.ma, without whom the thought of me being their boss would be unbearable to most of them. I won't be their boss, but at least they would not get ill at the thought of it. I was my usual charming self, which means I once again fronted like I enjoy other people, and I got through lunch OK.

I finished up the tour of the city, and I was off to meet the mayor. He was decent dude, but I think somebody forgot to give him the memo about the phone interview. He asked me what I'd do to turn shit around and I told him it wasn't up to me to turn shit around. I'm a gotdamn facilitator. You tell me what to do, and I'll get it done. That's what I've always done, figure out how to implement someone else's vision. He beat the shit out of that dead horse, while I kept giving him answers he didn't want to hear. He thanked me for my time and had his aide take me to the airport.

Now I wait for the rejection letter and the reimbursement check.

KZ

True Life

2009-03-10T11:33:00.003-04:00

"That pussy's all yours right up until after the wedding." -Wallace the Bartender

Nobody ever tells you anything worth a damn until after it's too late to do anything about it. People are glib and condescending right up until the the moment they realize the consequences are actually dire and the stakes are higher than they thought. I drink because I need to drink. I smoke because I need to smoke when I drink. I go to the gym every day because it's a habit now, not because I give a fuck about my health and well-being. It's the only socially acceptable place to be where you can actually people watch in the winter without being asked if you need anything every five minutes. Plus, zumba class is going on in a room with glass walls, so you got the perv factor going on, which is always nice.

But there is nothing that makes it easier being away from your woman. I love my wife, I love being in close proximity to her, even when we're on each others nerves. Quite frankly I'm not getting enough ass, which makes it even harder for me. I think she's OK with that, which is not OK with me, but that's another story. I think all my issues tied up with being in Satan's Anus tend to revolve around one central problem: my sex life sucks. It's been like this since I got here. I'd get dribs and drabs, but I've never fully enjoyed this place because since I arrived it's like I'm getting pussy rationed out to me. I will never apologize for loving sex. And I hate that this place has taken my one real pleasure in life and made it an occasional indulgence, like eating cheesecake or something. That's not the way sex is supposed to be. It's not the way life is supposed to be.

So I'm here, with an unsatisfying job, in an unsatisfying place, living like a gotdamn bachelor eating badly cooked meals, constantly reminding bitches I'm married, always alone, perpetually pissed off, and constantly horny, for reasons I've yet to figure out. I have always fucking hated this place, for what it is, but now mostly for what it represents.

I'm Out,
KZ

Nothing Much

2009-03-04T10:30:00.003-05:00

"Go back to your fucking desk, sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up!"

That's what I'm aching to say after my secretary comes in to my office telling me she has some "positive news". "Positive" is their euphemisms for barely disguised cheap shot at one of their co-workers. "I got some good news! Jan didn't give me all the information I needed, so I called a couple of departments and I was able to track down everything you asked me for." Bitch, so what? As long as everything's there, I don't care how you got it.

I would never go into anybody's office with that load of bullshit, but they feel comfortable coming into mine. I looked at her like she was out of her mind and then told her "I don't really need to hear the story behind it, just as long as you got the information." She slinked (slunk?) out of the office looking goofy. Just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up, just like I'm doing.

I've been a supervisor for most of my career. I thought it was due to my ability to intuitively figure out the best way to get a job done and to use that ability to lead others. Nope. I'm sure it's due to me leaving the higher ups alone and finishing a job without bugging the shit out of them. I'm sure that's the person I'd promote in a heartbeat.

Peace,
KZ

Rational Vs. Irrational

2009-03-02T11:44:00.004-05:00

I have an irrational hate of real estate agents. I didn't know I did until I just looked through my large stack of business cards and saw all these real estate agents. I hate their fucking pictures looking up at me on cards, smirking and shit. I fucking hate them because they got the same look on all of their faces: I'm a gotdamn shark, a motherfucking go-getter. Man, fuck a real estate agent. Lying sacks of shit, one and all.

In a fit of self-improvement, I decided everything that comes out of my mouth today was going to be positive. I'm trying to create a bubble in which I can will my life into a more positive realm by speaking it into existence. Though I'm still writing the most foul, horrid shit, I think that I can maintain being an upbeat and affirming dude. This experiment will last one solid week, from Monday to Monday. Is this rational or irrational?

Everyday I go into a job I hate and sleepwalk my way through it. I'm bored, uninspired and exhausted most of the time. I spend my nights preparing for the next day, preparing for shit I hate to do. I also spend a fair amount of time trying to find another job doing some shit I hate to do. Rational or irrational?

Does it make sense to penalize low paid, marginally compensated people, stressed out about their future by limiting the little escape they have from their daily drudgery? Does it make sense to base one's opinion on the productivity of their staff on anything OTHER than their output? And does it make sense to spend money on a entire department that sole purpose is to monitor and snitch on every other department, if you could easily eliminate the need for the monitoring? IT Departments are as useless as tits on a bull. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all.

Peace,
KZ

What's Missing

2009-02-27T08:35:00.002-05:00

You may have
the gig
the broad
the kids
the cash
the face
the gear
the body
the house
the fortune
the style
the smile
the whip
the imagination
the will
the brains
the love
the science
the goals
the drive
the wiles
the support
and the means
but all that shit is useless without the passion.

Itchy Finger

2009-02-24T15:01:00.002-05:00

OK, we get notification from the internet gods that Facebook is basically off limits. It is the second most accessed website on our workplace servers, only behind gotdamn Google. Man, fuck this place. It's not cool to work here. I hope the next most accessed site is the gotdamn want ads.

I had to have a really serious conversation with one of my staff today. I think he's got a problem, substance related. I've been a supervisor or a manager for 14 years of my 15 year professional life. I thought been through it all. But telling somebody their job is on the line because they're coming to work high is the nadir. I don't ever wanna have to do that shit again.

I had two gigs that I'd been waiting to hear back from for months. I had second interviews with both of them and was hoping to hear something one way or another. I heard back one way, from both of them. That way was me calling them multiple times and leaving messages asking about my status until finally, sick of my messages, both of them told me they'd hired other people. I figured that, but when the fuck were you gonna send out a letter telling me that? Or returning my fucking call?

I had the worst interview of my life on Friday. It was not cool at all. I didn't prepare and I was morose and lackluster. I told them I didn't know shit about their city at all. I told them I was interested in the job because I just wanted to leave Michigan. When the interview was done, I asked them when they'd do me the courtesy of sending me a rejection letter. I gotta get a better attitude, I'm working in a completely defeatist mindset right now.

Be Cool,
KZ

Trust me...

2009-02-13T10:21:00.004-05:00

I hate your fucking baby. Stop showing me picture of your gotdamn baby. Stop talking about your gotdamn baby. Please, gotdamn it, stop.

Do you know how I know someone in Satan's Anus is going to turn right eventually? The entire time they are on the road, they will not leave the fucking right lane, no matter what. The same goes for turning left. These fucking addle-brained fuckers are gonna drive me to drink.

Who the fuck are you? And why do you wanna be my friend on Facebook? You're not even a friend of a gotdamn "real" friend. I hate you.

I love my wife. Absolutely and completely love her. I'd do anything for her, up to and including die for her. But if I don't buy her flowers and candy tomorrow, that shit goes out of the window. Isn't that how this holiday shit works?

Bitch be quiet! I don't pay you to think. Apparently, you don't think I pay you to work either. Bitch, just shut up.

Yes, I would very much enjoy that. Thank you for asking.

There is no way in fresh hell that this fucking place is habitable. It's highly uncivilized and extremely frigid.

The system is a funny thing. You have to study it to know it, then once you know it, figure out how to game it and use it's inherent weakness to your advantage. Once you exploit those weaknesses, the system has to change to prevent another breech. The thing is, the system architects are always the biggest exploiters of it. Their arrogance, believing that no one is as brilliant as they are, always leads to the system's inevitable change. If you are not an architect of the system and you game the system, you are the enemy.

I know this place is making me crazy. You don't have to tell me.

The Natural Defense

2009-01-29T10:15:00.002-05:00

How's about I post 10 or 12 photos of me urinating? Just pissin' up a storm, right here on Blogger. Wouldn't it be great to see that? It wouldn't? Why not? It's natural! Everybody pisses, right? Stop being such a fucking prude!

I'm carrying over an argument I got into on Facebook. This chick was mad because Facebook's rules won't allow her friend to post pics of breastfeeding. The argument being it is a natural thing, the baby's just eating, it's beautiful, it's a great way to share the pics with friends and family, etc. They went on to further explain that Facebook allows gratuitous tits and ass shots, why not a little wholesome titty suckin'?

I'll stand my ground. I understand that it's natural and it's a way children and mothers bond, but why is it necessary for Facebook to condone it? If you want to share photos of breastfeeding with your friends and family, send them the fucking pictures. Post 'em on Flickr, Snapfish, or buy a gotdamn domain for 12 cents a year and post whatever you want. But Facebook or any other social networking site doesn't owe you shit. It's theirs, they get paid for it, you're a gotdamn customer.

And as far as the tits and ass shots, aren't they natural too? Doesn't everybody have a chest and an ass? If your argument is the "natural" one, there are a lot of things that are natural. Like flat out fucking, bodies decomposing, or animals eating their young. You don't necessarily want to see that shit posted.

If you wanna keep arguing about your right to post pics of your baby eating dinner, I'm not gonna participate. I'd still question your motives, which you say ostensibly is to "teach mothers how to properly breastfeed". Step one, put your milk filled titty in a baby's mouth. Step two, wait until the baby stops sucking it. I think I got it. Thanks, middle class white lady!

Idiots!

KZ

The Devil's In The Details

2009-01-27T10:35:00.002-05:00

Hey y'all, what's good? I'm trying to maintain. The stress of living apart from my wife coupled with the ever increasing aches and pains of a daily workout is giving me the blues. Along with the weather and the economy, it's shaping up to be a pretty shitty next few months. In the meantime, I always have the joys of my job to fall back on...

Last week Office Broccoli, filing clerk, got paid too much in her check. Payroll gave her 40 hours of pay EXTRA. She brought it to my office staff's attention a couple of days after it happened, and they brought it to me. Simple solution, right? Give us back the money now or keep the money and we'll just pay 40 hours less on the next check. Case closed. Not so fast.

"I used the extra money to pay back my nephew some money I owed him. And I can't afford a short check next week." What the fuck is this? You used the money that wasn't yours AND you don't want to subsequently pay us back? Your nephews money came before our money, the place you earn a living, with no skills except alphabetizing? Really, dumbass?

So she complains to her union rep that we're trying to take money from her, money she hadn't earned yet. Now the union rep wants to talk to me. I ask him "What is there to talk about? She can pay us back or she can keep the money and be short on the next check. She doesn't get to keep the money and keep getting paid. That doesn't make sense." He asserts that it's the payroll processor's fault, that she shouldn't have to pay back the money, the payroll processor should. "I don't care who pays back the money, it's gotta be paid back with uncompensated work or cash. By the way, the payroll processor's in your union too. Are you willing to sacrifice one union member over the other?" His dumbass couldn't fight that logic.

Today she signed the agreement to receive a short check next week.

KZ

Last Night

2009-01-21T11:53:00.003-05:00

I dearly tried to get into the inauguration swing of things last night. After I left the gym, I came home got showered and I called the "people who know things" here in Satan's Anus. Nobody knew any more than I did. I ended up calling Agent Zero so we could find out where to be. She named some places so we were determined to meet up at the place most likely to be jumping, the Satan's Anus Democratic Party gig. Ten bucks to get in. I got there first, so I paid and stood in the lobby. People were selling over expensive, wack food and Obama logo shirts.

So many dredlocs, absolutely no Black people. Bad hippie music and a of bunch people staring at the old Black dude in the sportscoat and jeans. I told Agent Zero to slow her roll. I needed to reassess where she should meet me. I drove around downtown and saw party after party break up. It was only 9:30 and people were getting the fuck gone. Satan's Anus folks love talking shit about Detroiters, but I can guarantee shit was poppin' in the D all night long.

Finally, just to go somewhere and drink, we ended up at this sports bar. One thousand TVs, zero inauguration coverage. On the bright side, I did get to see Penn State whup up on Michigan's ass. But no, I didn't get to celebrate the inauguration with more than one like minded person.

Peace,
KZ

Enough!

2009-01-13T14:41:00.010-05:00

Alright, Africans, pipe down. I'm fucking sick of your forwards, your prayers, your messages filled with pablum and hokum, your gotdamn candy coated sycophancy, basically, your general overall dick-riding. Stop it gotdamn it! Enough is enough!

Right after the election I got inundated with every image, every iconography under the sun as it relates to Ol' Boy (I can't even write the gotdamn name anymore). I was hyped just like everybody else. Then, it came to a point where I was disturbed by the cheese level.

God, that photoshopping is the cheesiest shit in the world. That's some ghetto assed shit.

Then, it was the frequency in which I was seeing the shit. The extrapolation of this to shit everything.

I was wonder when and if this shit would ever end. I'm deleting shit from everybody, if I THINK it's gonna mention Ol' Boy in the email, in any way, shape or form, it's getting deleted.

Then, of course, my mother sends me an email, and in the subject line I know it's about Ol' Boy. My mother and I have had a talk about the type of email I will and will not open or respond to, so I think I'm pretty safe.

Uncharacteristically optimistic, I open the email and this is what I see, attached to a prayer.

What type of pseudo-messianic bullshit is this? Man, fuck y'all for sending this shit to me. I don't need this in my life. I really don't. I'll hold my breath for single-payer healthcare until I open another Ol' Boy related email. Really, y'all can save that shit.

I'm Out,
KZ

Yet Another Gym Diatribe

2009-01-09T09:19:00.004-05:00

I know I'm repeating myself in these posts, but such is life. This whole thing is cyclical and I am a mere pawn in the big scheme of things. That being said, I'm here to spout off about my pet peeves at the local YMCA.

Man, if I see another a) bastard wearing jeans to work out, or b) bastard wearing spandex shorts to work out, I'll flip. Neither of these garments are appropriate gym wear for men, and jeans are inappropriate for either sex. Muthafucka, I do not wanna see the outline of your sweaty nuts. Put some looser shit on. And looking at these stupid hicks wearing jeans to the gym just makes me uncomfortable. It fucks up my workout. That shit can't be comfortable. Buy a $2 pair of sweatpants and keep them shits in your trunk. Damn!

Another thing I hate is these Africans that are in the free weight room every time I go. There are about 5 of them and they lift together. They give the whole place a real prison yard feel. They all huddle over the same bench and shout out encouragement to each other. They are constantly in the way of other people trying to grab weights for their own work outs. Plus, when you have to wait for 5 dudes to each do their reps, then go through their cycle, they have basically monopolized a station. They are the loudest, most obnoxious muthafuckas known to man. The only upside is that they intimidate enough non-black people, that the rest of the room is virtually empty for my work out. I just found out one of the dudes is married to one of my secretaries, the one that looks like Kym Whit.ley. I'm all for cooperation in the spirit of that one funny word they use in Kwanzaa, but break the fuck up into smaller groups and stop looking like rec time at Folsom and shit.

I carry around this book with me at the gym. It's this regimen that I've been using to lose weight. I used to feel funny carrying it around and following the instructions on exercises, because it made me look like a novice, but as the results started showing I stopped giving a fuck. Muthafuckas used to snicker about that book, I've heard 'em. I'm a regular now and I'm at the gym six days a week, but not a day goes by when somebody doesn't ask me about that fucking book. I've watched them stagnate while I'm getting in better shape. So one of the original snickerers asked me about the book. "So is that how you lost so much weight?" I wanna be like

"Naw, muthafucka, I was getting a blow job while driving and hit a gypsy by accident. That's how I lost it."

Go somewhere and keep laughing, asshole.

And what would a gym post be without me talking about the locker room. Bastards better learn to use their peripherals. If your fucking head is turning when a naked man walks by, you need to fucking check yourself or get checked. I don't care what your orientation is, I'm just talking about the rudeness aspect of it. Locker room etiquette is, shall, and will always be do not look at a muthafucka you don't know and never look below that muthafuckas chest, period.

I'm sure I'll have more as this agonizing winter season at the gym marches on.

Be Easy,
KZ

My Attempt At Writing Modern Black Fiction

2009-01-05T10:57:00.003-05:00

Keisha Monique Thundercoochie was the hottest thing in Atlanta. She was rich beyond her wildest dreams. She had 3 PhDs from Harvard, yet she kept it real. Plus she had long hair like she was an indian, plus a big booty, plus a real dope purse. Every dude in town really wanted to sleep with her, but she was like "Nunh unh". One day she met this dude, Boris Shemar DeBarge. He was tall, plus he had good hair like an indian, plus he was built and had a eleventeen inch dick. Plus he was a businessman and also a thug.

Boris and Keisha were inseparable, except when she had to go to work and give lectures on being a phenomenal woman and he had to go out of town on thug missions. Then, she saw a text on his phone and was shocked to see the shocking secret he shockingly kept hidden. It shocked her.

When Keisha asked Boris about his secret, he didn't respond, because he was the silent type. Also he was handsome. Plus built. So the relationship ended.

Keisha tried like hell to move past him. She met this other dude while she was out lecturing about being a PhD. He was all good looking and suave. His name was Percy Bitchazz Fontleroy Unmanly. There was something about him she couldn't put her finger on...maybe he too had a dark secret. But she still gave him some play, even though he couldn't hold a candle to Boris in the manhood department.

Boris moved on too. He found a girl who had a big booty, plus she was beautiful. She had a haircut like Halle Berry, but she still had good hair, you could tell. I think her name was Kim. She was kinda seditty, plus she was all dark-skinned and shit. And she only had one PhD, and that shit was from fucking Yale. Nothing like Keisha. I think she was a psychologist and shit, because she was always messing with Boris's head.

One day Keisha was out. And Boris was too. They ran into each other and they had their new boos with them. It was sorta awkward. Percy was being his soft ass self, and Kim was being all seditty. It was crazy. That shit was all messed up. But Keisha and Boris was looking at each other and stuff. Ooooooh weeee!

So Boris was like "Fuck it". And he pops the question to seditty ass Kim. So right there, bam, they gettin' married. So the dude that does Kim's hair be doin' Keisha's hair too and told Keisha the story. Keisha was all sad, but Boris kept that shocking secret from her, so good riddance, right?

Boris was torn and then he was like "Fuck it" and like the true thug that he is, he stepped to Keisha in her lecture hall while she was giving a lecture to her students on being a phenomenal woman. "Woman, I love the fuck outta you, and I don't wanna be with that seditty ass Kim! I want you!"

Then Keisha said "OK" and they got married and he got her a new purse, that he got from thuggin'.

The End

KZ

The 556th Post About People Not Like Me, Who I Can't Stand Because Of That Fact

2008-12-31T13:28:00.003-05:00

Hey folks, what's good? I'm at work on New Year's Eve and it's a skeleton crew here. There are literally only 7 people in a 50 person office. Most people, myself included, are taking the time to clean up their cluttered offices so that they can come back to a uncluttered New Year. I did that shit in record time, basically by shoving most of the shit into the garbage. If I didn't need it at this juncture, hell, I won't need it. Plus, most of it is me being CC'ed on some FYI shit that the staff sends me to let me know what they're doing. This is the big secret: I don't give a fuck what they're doing, as long as they aren't getting me in trouble by not producing.

The thing is, one of the people that showed up today is my secretary. I was filing the shit I actually needed to keep and she came in and had a hurt look on her face. My first reaction was to ask her "What's the matter?". She said nothing and started to ask me what she came in there to ask me, which was for something to work on.

Now, folks, I know everybody's not like me. I don't pretend to understand y'all. But if my boss was doing something that I was supposed to do, and it was a menial task, I'd welcome that shit. Less garbage shit I have to do. Second, why the fuck on New Years Eve are you asking me for shit to do? Play solitare, surf the internet, knit a gotdamn sweater, go suck your boyfriend's dick for a few hours. What do I care? I don't give a fuck. Stop needing to be gotdamn LED so much. I get paid to lead. Can I get a day off? There's nothing to lead you to do. Nothing. No phone calls, no walk-ins. Nothing.

On Christmas Eve, I let everybody go home at 2:00, mainly because I had to drive to Detroit and I wanted to get a head start. Today, I have no where to be but here, but I was still considering letting them go. She's making me rethink that shit. I mean, what the fuck would she do with the free time? She'd probably ask me "What should I do with the rest of my day?" Fucking idiots.

Peace,
KZ

Non-Holiday Related Topic (On Purpose)

2008-12-24T11:21:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I think life is one long cosmic joke. There are some things that I will never understand about life in this world that seem to come from someone with a perverse sense of humor. Every time I talk to my boy, Three, about this shit, I get a better perspective about the level of my frustration. I'm not actually that bother by what's going on, but rather the normalcy attributed to the absurdity.

How could anyone be upset at that cat that threw shoes at the President? Those same people were even-keeled and "rational" about murdering civilians and taking over a sovereign nation, but got upset when a cat threw shoes at the muthafucka responsible. Insane. But, alas, this post isn't about that or anything political. It's about the laws of attraction.

The sexiest women I've ever met were some of the most mentally unstable, socially reprehensible, obnoxious people ever to walk the Earth. I believe it's a natural gift that God has bestowed on the reprehensible to make them tolerable. That shit oozes out of their pores and makes a muthafucka take a second look at some of the worst people who ever lived. Truthfully, though, I don't know what comes first, the sexyness or the evil. Perhaps once somebody knows that they can manipulate people just by being that hot shit, they use their powers for those purposes. I tend to think that it's the other way around, though. They're born fucked up and sexyness is just a by-product. Conversely, the most erotically bland, asexual women I've known have been the most interesting, good-hearted people in the world. But who wants to fuck with them, right? Ugh!

TAD, sure enough, is a good mix of sexy and interesting. I know you think I gotta say that, but it's true. I didn't have to write this post at all, I have no problem telling the truth about my shit. I just think it's funny that the world tends to operate the way it does.

Peace,
KZ

2008 Ultimate Holiday Shopping Guide For Ladies

2008-12-17T09:21:00.002-05:00

Hey y'all. I've been a little depressed. I guess more depressed than usual. My boss, Allen, the Republican with the Ronald Reagan screen saver, scored tickets to the inauguration. Where's the gotdamn justice? I mean, for real, where's the justice?

Anyway, this is not about that. This is a true life guide for the ladies out there on how to shop for their husbands, boyfriends, or significant others for Christmas. I want to go on the record saying "Fuck Christmas". This is not an endorsement of that made up pagan winter solstice ritual that Christians hijacked and conflated to correspond birth of their Lord and Savior. Christmastime is a gotdamn myth. And now to my recommendations...

Ladies, you wanna know the hottest gift out there for your dude? The thing that he'll be happy as fuck to wake up to on Christmas Day? A wet, super sloppy blowjob. You know what he'll happy as hell to wake up to on the 26th? A wet, super sloppy blowjob. You know what he'll be happy as hell to wake up to on March 22nd? I think you've guessed it. It's free and it makes the household run a lot smoother.

The other thing that you may want to check into for your guy are noice cancelling headphones. Trust me, they are the best things ever invented. The top of the line headphones are from Bose, with Sony coming in second. They might be a little pricey, but they are worth it. When you are bitching about that chick from work that gets on your nerves, or telling another story about your fucked up family, those headphones will come in handy. Let that African listen to Nas while you whine about your yeast infection. He deserves a break.

Does your man have a hobby? I'll bet he does (even if you don't know about it). If so, don't buy him anything related to his hobby. It's likely he'll get it for himself in the near future anyway. Give him something that he'd never think to buy for himself: a plane ticket for you to go out of town. It's the gift that keeps on giving. He can do shit that he'd like to do during his time off instead of worrying about whether or not a bulb went out on the outside lights or if y'all have visited every friend in your phone book over the holiday season. Do that shit and come home to a grateful man.

I've always heard that lingerie is a gift that is more for the man than it is for the woman. I disagree. If that woman likes to feel pretty and enjoys dick, that lingerie is as much for her as it is for the man. I still think it's a cop out gift, though. That being said, arranging a private showing of lingerie that you're considering purchasing, complete with lingerie models would not be a bad investment. He will most certainly enjoy seeing the latest boudoir fashions being presented in a manner consistent with their design. It's a gift for the fashion forward man in your life. Think about it.

That's it for now, ladies. Talk to you later.

Peace,
KZ

.38 Special

2008-12-11T08:41:00.003-05:00

Man, what a difference a few years makes. Yesterday was my 38th birthday. I celebrated by not shoving a shotgun barrel in my mouth and pulling the trigger. It was the weakest, wackest birthday I've had in a long time. Of course, I don't really get to celebrate until this weekend when I'm with my wife, but still, it was pretty rotten.

I had a second interview, this time over the phone, with Ch.arm City. I thought it was a good omen that they set the date on my birthday. Turns out it wasn't that good of an omen. Man, oh man was that a rough interview. Yes, of course Satan's Anus is smaller than Satan's Sandbox, I understand economies of scale and such. Give me a shot. Even if I got through that interview, I still have yet another one to go, which I won't know if I advanced to until mid-January. The wheels of major city bureaucracy moves slowly.

Just looking back on the blog thing and in blog terms, my shit has changed significantly. I started this thing as a bow-tied, 34 year old malcontent. Now I'm a 38 YEAR OLD malcontent who wears fewer bowties!!! That's a lot of change, yo!

Peace,
KZ

Aimless

2008-12-03T09:44:00.002-05:00

I guess this blog is about to get a whole lot more boring. I thought that would eventually happen when I got married, basically your life changes, calms down, and you got less shit to talk about. But that's not the reason it's getting more boring starting right now. It's getting more boring because I'm getting overwhelmed at how pointless my life is. I really do hate my job, the people I work with, the work that I do, and the overall nature of workplace interaction.

I'm working to pay for shit I don't need and a master's degree that didn't do shit in the way of advancing my career. Think about that: I paid for additional education to assist me in a job that I don't like. And the shit didn't even assist me! Ain't that a bitch? The trappings of success have eluded me, but people act like I'm a success. I'm not even happy outside of being with TAD, and we still live two hours away from each other, with weekend visits. I don't even get to enjoy being with my wife during the week.

This shit is so pointless. I'm not making this place a better place to live. I'm not contributing to the growth or success of the people around me. I'm not a better person. I read less and complain more. I feel stuck. I've really prepared and I'm ready to perform any task in my field, but I don't really wanna do this shit. I wanna enjoy my life. This shit ain't enjoyable.

I understand life's not supposed to be all wine and roses, but fuck, it's supposed to be SOME wine and roses. Gotdamn!

KZ

Update

2008-11-25T13:00:00.002-05:00

Job Hunt

What the fuck, Baltimore? Really, either send me a letter and tell me to fuck off, or call me already. The suspense is killing me. I have a second interview on Monday for a job I don't want (but they'll pay me handsomely) and I'd much rather have the job I want regardless of pay (even though they'll pay handsomely too). Baltimore, what the fuck?

Funky

I thought I wrote about this, but I can't find the post. I give everyone aliases and I can't remember what I called this one chick, but I have a staff person who's deluded. Actually 2 staff people, but I'll only talk about this one. She thinks she has a neutral odor and tells anyone who'll listen that she doesn't bathe daily. In her mind, why bother? Truth be told, I'd never actually smelled her pungent ass, so it wasn't an issue to me, but still...UGH!...bitch, you don't bathe daily? I see you at the gym EVERY SINGLE DAY, and you don't bathe daily? What the fuck?!? Anyway, I had a little meeting with this chick today and **WHAM** for the first time the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. FUCK! That bitch smelled like putrid Limburger. Ah-chee mah-chee! Ladies and gentlemen, I gives a fuck what you've been led to believe about your odor or lack thereof, but please bathe everyday.

Thanksgiving

Enjoy your family. Ignore the ignorable and adore the adorable. That's what the fuck I'mma do.

Peace,
KZ

Personality...Or Lack Thereof

2008-11-18T08:33:00.004-05:00

So TAD and I got back the professional photos of our wedding. The little guy (physically, this dude would remind you of a prepubescent child) that took the shots really did a good job, as we expected. I'm going through over 1200 digital photos, trying to find 300-400 "keepers", ultimately to get to 30 for the proof book. I'll pick mine, TAD will pick hers and somehow we'll reach a consensus, which really means, she'll get what she wants. I don't mind. It's really a hard choice between these pics. Anyway, as I peruse the photos, I discover something that I think I may have known the whole time: I only have 3 expressions.

My wife's face is so full of personality and expression. I think I could tell exactly what she was thinking at the exact moment each photo of her was taken. Me? All I got is "fat-faced surprise", "fat-faced happiness", and "fat-faced seriousness". That's it. That's my repertoire.

Truthfully, she coulda been faking some emotion on some of those pics. Like looking happy when she was thinking "Fuck! I wish this was over already!", but at least she could put on an expression that conveyed something entirely different. When I was feeling tired by the day's end, all I had was "fat-faced seriousness". I had used up "fat-faced happiness" earlier that day. And, of course, I needed to be genuinely surprised to be captured in "fat-faced surprise" mode.

Except for me and my lack of facial personality, the pics came out great.

Peace,
KZ

I Know This Is Late, But Here Goes...

2008-11-13T09:43:00.003-05:00

What if everybody around you had been born with only 3 limbs, and you were born with 4? Then people told you that if you wanted to be "normal" you'd saw one of your limbs off? You'd probably balk at that idea, right?

Let me give you a more down to earth example. What if at age 10 someone took you from your home with your loving parents and gave you to another family, a family that lived right down the street. Your parents were good and kind to you, gave you all the love in the world, but someone of authority said you didn't belong together and gave you to a family right down the street. You're in a position where you can literally see your parents everyday, but you're not allowed to live with them or interact in any significant way with them.

At what lengths would you go to make your loved ones happy? How far would you go to "save face" and to hold a position of esteem in your community? Would you change your life completely? Commit fraud by intentionally deceiving an innocent person? Would you lie about who you are essentially?

People make insane choices like these everyday, and are forced to live in strange and precarious circumstances. They do it to BELONG and live in a society that needs them and benefits from their creativity and overall contributions. The ones that decide enough is enough and make the decision to live as "others" in our society, regardless of achievement, are treated as though their happiness is somehow predicated on whether or not you know "how to explain it to the children".

Meanwhile, Africans keep acting like animals, killing each other over distorted ideals of respect, lying down and fucking everybody and anybody, making gotdamn babies out of wedlock over and over again, becoming grandparents in their late 30's, then having the nerve to quote fuckin' Bible verses to justify denying people their happiness.

I hold special scorn for the people who funded the "marriage is one man-one woman" initiative, who started their religion practicing polygamy and to this day don't realize that every ritual they perform in their church is derived from Mas.onic rites, courtesy of founder Joseph Smith. For these people and their God-sanctioned underwear and their 1978 decision to allow Black people to enter Heaven, you know you can suck my entire cock. If you're Black and you cast your lot with these motherfuckers, ask yourself when they've ever been on the right side of history.

Man, fuck any and everybody that voted to deny gay people the right to get married. I'm serious. Fuck you.

KZ

Man, Fuck...

2008-11-07T10:58:00.002-05:00

I was leaving work yesterday, going to get something to eat before my evening meeting, about to make a right turn on the massive one way street called Michigan Avenue. I looked to the right, just out of instinct, because, of course, there was no traffic coming from that direction, and inched the nose of my car past the sidewalk. I looked to my left and saw that traffic was still coming at a steady rate. I looked back to my left, and out of nowhere, a filthy, middle aged toothless Black man was on his bike, standing right next to my passenger side window.

"You pulled out and made me hit your tire!"
"What?"
"You pulled out on the sidewalk and made me hit your tire. You got my chest and heart all hurtin'!"
"You sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'!"
"Are you sayin' I hit you?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'?"
"Man, what do you want from me? You wanna sue me? What do you want?"
"You got my chest all hurtin'. At least you could give me money for a hamburger or somethin'."
"Man, fuck you. Sue me. Take down my license plate, n*gga."

And I sped off, hoping to just go get a quick meal before this night meeting.

I stopped about 3/4 of a mile down Michigan at this restaurant. I parked across the street and headed to the crosswalk. In front of me at the crosswalk was a lady (and I use this term generously) listening to her iPod. She was a large woman dressed as though she was a trucker or a longshoreman. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there. Then she apparently heard something too good to stand still for in her earphones, because at that moment she started suggestively shaking her enormous trucker ass in my direction.

That's when I knew everybody here was as crazy as I thought they were. Every fucking day it's something new. Meanwhile, my wife lives a billion miles away and my job sucks dick. Man, fuck...

KZ

I'm Still A Cynic

2008-11-05T00:14:00.008-05:00

Yes, he could.

Today Is A Monumental Day

2008-11-04T08:05:00.001-05:00

Buy this...

...then go vote for the Black guy. Or vice versa.

Peace,
KZ

Dolphin Dick and Other Discoveries

2008-10-27T14:29:00.002-04:00

Did you know that my wedding photos are available for viewing if you just email me and ask?

Did you know that my wife was so creative? And so beautiful?

Did you know that my father is such a softie? "Something in my eye" my ass!

Did you know that I have the world's baddest nephew?

Did you know that Robyn has such a suave son?

Did you know that my frat brothers would be on point for the first time in their miserable lives?

Did you know that sometimes it rains non-stop in Cancun over the period of an entire week, forcing one to stay indoors make love to his beautiful new wife for hours on end?

Did you know dolphins were packing dick? Straight weapons, yo.

Do you know how annoying natives in Cancun are when they're trying to sell you shit?

Do you know how afraid I am of flying? It'll be a minute.

Did you know I am still off work and in Detroit while my wife works for a living? I get to be home being a househusband for a week.

I'll talk to y'all later!

KZ

The Yucatan Peninsula...

2008-10-21T00:26:00.002-04:00

is where I'm sitting. My wife is sleeping and I'm watching TV with Spanish overdubbing.

I'm tired. Talk to y'all later.

KZ

Socially Unacceptable

2008-10-15T12:12:00.002-04:00

The more I pay attention to myself, the weirder I think I am.

I was really craving GOOD coffee this morning, but I didn't feel like making any on my great office one cup machine. I love the machine, but I hate cleaning it afterwards. So I was going on a trek to get coffee. Then I realized the last time I went into the coffee shop down the street, I got caught up in this long conversation with the new owner. It seems this guy was a food service person at this place where the City always holds it's retreats. He served us at that retreat I talked about last month. He remembered me and he was very nice. The coffee is great and we had a nice conversation. That's probably the last time I'll ever go in that coffee shop again.

You see, he fucked up my coffee spot by talking to me beyond what was needed to get me my coffee. I didn't come in there for a nice conversation. I liked the old owner, the muthafucka who served me coffee and took my money, with only a few pleasantries in between. This cat will fuck my mornings up if I go in there. I don't wanna talk to nobody about shit.

So this guy, who remembers faces and who is friendly and kind, has just lost a customer for no good reason. It's just the way it's gotta be. I have to be me.

KZ

Patience

2008-10-13T13:56:00.004-04:00

I had a chance to have a good long talk with my friend, Three yesterday. It was full of details on the bachelor party he's gonna miss and the general nature of my patience, or lack thereof.

For the record, he knows that I could give a fuck less about a bachelor party, but it would've been good to see all my boys in one place for a big alcohol filled night. So I basically called him so I could call him a muthafucka for not making the trip. Muthafucka.

What this wise sage of man did impart to me was his vast knowledge of patience and his familiarity of my lack of it. It's always funny listening to a muthafucka who ain't married, ain't never been married, and likely will never get married talking to me about marriage. Bastard. That being said, he made some pretty good points about knowing how I am.

First off, I suck at telling anybody anything because I expect them to know what I'm talking about with a minimum of words. I fucking hate talking, so I always take shortcuts, hence, a bunch of misunderstandings.

Secondly, I can't help but to question one's intelligence if I have to tell them something twice. After I tell somebody something for the second time, seriously, fuck them. Because I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt and they blew it.

Thirdly, nothing ever changes. You can talk until you're blue in the face, and people don't listen to shit you have to say most of the time. Why waste your time saying it? There is no reason.

And fourth, I know that people are COMFORTABLE BEING COMFORTABLE and will do as little as possible to increase your comfort while decreasing theirs, in the name of love or whatever. Half-assedness abounds. Either you accept it or you don't.

I thought this time here in Satan's Anus has made me better, but I think it's made me worse. More anti-social, because I hate the way people react to the shit I say or don't say, more irresponsible, because fuck living up to a commitment to hang or go to a barbeque when you don't give a fuck whether or not you lose that person's friendship, more evil, because fuck everybody else, really.

That's about it.

KZ

Green Tea

2008-10-10T10:54:00.004-04:00

"Why would God give you a passion and a talent to do something and then say 'If you follow that, I'm not gon' let you eat!'?"- Anthony Rodman

The funniest shit I've read in a while: McCain supporters are getting REALLY riled up and angry with this campaign. They are fighting mad!!!

I don't even know what that shit means. I mean, do you get TWO votes if you're really, REALLY angry? I mean, McCain supporters are just that, McCain supporters. If there are less of them than there are of Obama supporters, who gives if fuck if they're angry now. Are they gonna strong arm people walking into voting booths and say "Gotdamn it, you better vote for MY guy!!!" If anger mattered that much, we'd be looking at the re-election campaign of President Kerry. So really, fuck a McCain supporter, win or lose.

Anyway, on to another topic. There's this dude I know here named Anthony Rodman, who's actually been a very good friend. We were talking the other day, 'cuz that's what we do, I meet with him for lunch and he lets me vent. I went on to tell him about writing and how much I love to write. I talked about embarking on a new phase of my life and I needed stability to support a family, but I just didn't have any passion for what I'm doing. That's when he gave me that awesome quote at the top. Thanks, muthafucka! Now I'll try to feed my wife and kids some essays!

As hectic and complicated as it is trying to be ready for this wedding, people complicate it more. I'm currently in the running for 3 gigs. These 3 gigs have asked me for, amongst other things, an unprecedented TEN references, asked me to take personality tests, online interviews using webcams, write career assessment essays, and a host of other bullshit. All this while trying to finish work that will sit on my desk unless I do it before I leave, since I'll be out from October 15-November 3. On October 16, two days before I get married, I have to fly to M.aryland for a job interview, fly back the same day, and go get my final fitting for my tux. They couldn't change the gotdamn date. They've been sitting on my fucking resume for at least 4 months, and NOW they're on some ol' "time is of the essence" bullshit. Fuck y'all, Cha.rm City, fuck y'all right in the ass.

All this so I can continue to work in a field I don't have a passion for. Maybe Anthony is right. Time will tell.

Peace,
KZ

The Age Of Nefarious

2008-10-07T16:27:00.002-04:00

I spent my Saturday in East Lansing, at homecoming. Tailgating and shit. Drinking free brew with the Black Alumni Association. I was with a couple of my groomsmen and shit, plus a bunch of other people I could give a fuck less about. There is a direct correlation, at least in my feeble brain, between how obnoxious muthafuckas were as undergrads to how much money they make right now. The more obnoxious, the more paid they seem to be. And the thing is they're STILL obnoxious!!! It might be worse! Man, fuck these people!

I spent a lot of time talking to my friend, Jesus. I'm not being metaphorical, muthafuckas. I have a friend, from undergrad, who's given name is Jesus. Not Hay-Soose, Jesus. This always made people uncomfortable. Nobody ever wanted to say his name. They'd call him J.C. and shit (yes, those are his actual initials), but not me. I wasn't religious anyway, and his name was his name, so fuck it, I'mma call you Jesus.

Anyway, after listening to women who I don't give a fuck about bitchin' because I'm getting married AGAIN and I didn't look their way, I was reminiscing with Jesus. Sure enough, every chick I know came past with some variation on "Well look at this, Jesus and Satan!" "Hey, everybody, it's Jesus and Lucifer!" Hilarious! Sidesplitting! Eh. They irritated me so much, it made me walk away from my friend. Forgive me Jesus.

Afterwards, me and Hutty, my best man, and his wife and her friends left campus and went to eat. Hutty was one of those obnoxious undergrads I was talking about. He's still obnoxious and makes boatloads of fucking money, hand over gotdamn fist. I watched that African belittle and embarass his wife in front of her friends for at least two good hours at this BBQ joint. It was an amazing display of assholery, completely fearless. And at the end of the night, she was still like she's always been, in love with his pockets. And THAT'S what the fuck money can do for you, gentlemen.

Be Cool,
KZ

Slut On The Wall

2008-09-25T13:32:00.003-04:00

Hey peoples, what's good? I'm trying to pass along information to my women friends, women who keep complaining about other women. The problem is, they don't listen, they don't read my blog, and they don't know about my blog, so it's kind of hard to convey this information to them. I hope you pass this along to people who need it.

Men fucking love slutty women and women in slutty clothes in general. The only time I've ever heard men complain about slutty women is when that woman decides not to give THEM the pussy. They never complain about women who dress slutty, except when she's related to them. Well, there is one other time. They complain about women who dress slutty when they see them out and their wives/girlfriends are with them. Ladies, this is the oldest trick in the book. It buys them a few more minutes to look at the ass and titties while pretending to be critical of the lady's morals. It's bullshit. A man has never complained to another man about some slutty dressing woman. It doesn't happen, ever.

As much as y'all hate and despise these women for dressing and acting "loose", I need you to understand one thing. To paraphrase Jack Nicholson in "A Few Good Men", you want that slut on the wall, you NEED that slut on the wall. That slut is the cure for erectile dysfunction and general boredom. The memory, the ideal, of that slut is what gives that dude a hard-on when you wear that hideous flannel nightgown and giant panties with a panel in the front to bed night after night and then want to act in an amorous fashion. His ability to recall that slutty chick is the entire reason for your sex life. Whether she's in his office or working at Starbucks, that chick is almost certainly the saving grace of your fragile ass relationship.

So the next time you want to crash on some skimpily clad young nubile, take a deep breath and muster up a smile for her. You are in a symbiotic relationship. She's the other monkey picking the fleas off your monkey ass.

Peace,
KZ

The Entire Reason I Still Love Hip Hop

2008-09-24T21:06:00.000-04:00

Liquor and Cookies

2008-09-24T16:49:00.002-04:00

Muthafuckas don't know that they're insane. You know they're insane, but them themselves? Not so much. I try to remember that when I'm at work, because it makes my interaction with insane people go a lot smoother. I mean, how can you get mad at someone who doesn't know better?

So, when I'm sitting at my desk trying to make sure people get their homes assessed for flood damage so that they can potentially qualify for FEMA (ha!) aid, I can ignore my secretary busting in the door like the building is on fire to ask me if I want some doughnuts somebody brought. Hell, I can even ignore the loud black receptionist who's obviously on a personal call during this mini-emergency. Well, either she's on a personal call or she's telling a resident about what the doctor found whilst fiddling around her vajayjay. It could be either one of those, right? It's not like we don't have a multi-million dollar budget and we're called to recoup half that operating budget through fees, permits, inspections and citations all of which must be handled by the receptionists. Oh, wait a minute, it IS like that!

I'm able to forgive bouts of insanity by all my staff, like my staff person who thinks it's OK for her husband to come visit her EVERY MORNING with their two small kids. Yeah, I get that you miss that smelly bitch, but EVERY MORNING? She just left home, dude!

What I'm not able to ignore is Wispy. Wispy is like the office "Glenn Close". She will not be ignored. She comes in my office squealing on everybody. She's got on a "No Snitching" t-shirt with a Ghostbusters line drawn through it. Not literally, but damn, she was tellin' on everybody. She ended her tirade by crying REAL TEARS because the other receptionists hate her. They hate her because she's better at her job than they are. I foolishly ask "It's not because they know you tell on them?" Heaven's to Betsy! No! That's not it! It's jealousy, according to the wispy one. "I was talking to them about Cloris Leachman on Dancing with The Stars and they just ignored me!" Big, huge, super teardrops started poring out then. It was amazing.

"Wispy, I can't make them like you, but anything that affects the function of this office, I'll address."

She walked out of the office crying. And I couldn't think of what I wanted more at that point to comfort me. Either (or both) would do me a world of good.

Peace,
KZ

Barnacles

2008-09-18T16:40:00.003-04:00

This dumb assed person who lives here (I refuse to refer to her as my friend anymore), Agent Zero, just got a foster child in her care. The baby is really, really new. Around a week and half old. She's a single mother with two teenagers and a full time gig, so she's busy as heck. The baby is taking up a grip of her time, but somehow she's managing. She asks me if I wanna see the baby.

KZ: Uh, no.
AZ: What? Everybody wants to see the baby. Why don't you?
KZ: I don't give a fuck about a baby. Fuck a baby.
AZ: What? Are you serious or are you just pulling some ol' Detroit shit*?
KZ: I'm dead serious. I don't fuckin' like kids.
AZ: How could you not like kids?
KZ: I just don't. I don't think about it. Other people's kids are fucking irritating. And when you try to tell them about their kids, they fucking get defensive. If I can't hit 'em, I don't want 'em the fuck around me.
AZ: You don't really mean that, do you?
KZ: Really and truly.
AZ: I can't understand how anyone could not like kids.
KZ: I don't understand how anyone could not like pussy. But I'm surrounded by straight women and gay men. I don't judge y'all, I just accept that shit. That's a two-way street. Accept that I don't like kids.
AZ: You are unbelieveable. You on that Detroit shit.

Her kids are Exhibit A in why I fuckin' hate kids. Those fucking kids interrupt her constantly on the phone, beg constantly,they're irresponsible, talk back, and they're lazy fucking kids. My mother woulda kept her foot in our asses. I blame her and I hope they find another home for that baby before she's able to raise him the same way she raised those other irritating little bastards. Arrrrgggggghhhhh!!!!

KZ

*This is Satan's Anus code for being belligerent or cynical. You gotta be on some "Detroit shit" if you don't trust white people completely or if you don't take being treated second class lying down.

A Friend To Hip Hop and Animals and Such

2008-09-17T11:38:00.003-04:00

What up folks? It's me, Zed. Zed Zednanreh. I'm chillin' in the office today after spending yesterday driving back and forth to Detroit. I had a job interview, for the first time in many months, in a suburb of the D. It's far from my ideal gig, but it'll do in a pinch.

At the interview, they asked me several questions that I bullshitted and answered half assedly. If they offer me the job, I'll know they are quite stupid. I gave it my best shot, but I really wasn't all that prepared. You ask me specific questions about your specific problems and I have little insight to the information at hand, and you got yourself a half assed guess.

After the interview I got to eat lunch with TAD in one of my old stomping grounds. The food was good, the company was better. After that, I had to go get measured for my tux. The good news is that I went down a suit size after 10 1/2 weeks of working out 6 days a week and dieting I finally saw some tangible results.

Once again, I got to drive home and clear my head. It's not such a bad drive if gas was cheaper. It's not that bad at all.

KZ

Mildly Retarded

2008-09-08T10:27:00.004-04:00

So Friday, we had to go on a management retreat to discuss who we are and our "feelings". This type of shit rankles me to no end. Why? Because it's really none of your gotdamn business what makes me tick. It's your business to ask me to perform a task and it's my business to perform that task. Fuck how I tick, you tick, or the gotdamn public ticks.

The job can only give me half of what makes me tick. Until the job grows a pussy, they're fucked as far as my complete satisfaction goes. Fuck them for wanting that much information. I don't want that much information from the staff I'm over. Just do what the fuck I tell you to do. I don't give a fuck about your job satisfaction, just do what the fuck I say.

Maybe I'm a little off, maybe slightly mentally deficient, but in this little barter system we have set up, I figure either I do the job I get paid for or I get replaced. Who gives a fuck as to what motivates me to perform. You gotta work to eat, as the saying goes.

Man, fuck this whole place entirely.

KZ

Hypocrites

2008-09-04T15:28:00.001-04:00

Peace,
KZ

I'm Sick of These Cowards

2008-09-03T08:58:00.002-04:00

OK, I can buy the argument that raising a teenager that has pre-marital sex and gets pregnant does not make you a bad parent. But do I extend that argument to include raising a teenager that steals, or sells dope, or even shoots people? Most people probably wouldn't, but most people didn't build a platform based on being the moral stewards of America.

Staying out of other folks' business is my second nature. Actually it's my first nature. Fuck people, in general. I guess I find irony in a group that wants to extend governments reach into people's private lives through spying and religious based edicts asking us all to keep private matters private. What the fuck is private, y'all? You don't respect privacy at all and now you want yours respected.

And just like I expected, the pussy ass Democrats, instead of smelling blood in the water, buy into this fake assed civility. "Families are off limits". Right. Just like the question of whether your dead parents were communists, or if you're letting your half brother live in squalor in Kenya, or if your wife is a bitter black radical. "Families are off limits". Priceless.

They'll be off limits until some shit happens to your family, believe me.

Be Easy,
KZ

Lesson One

2008-08-27T08:42:00.003-04:00

Trials and tribulations are really underrated. We're in misery as we go through them, but the things we learn about ourselves and others are invaluable. That shit becomes ingrained in your DNA and you pass it down to your children and they to theirs.

It is only through our trials and tribulations that we come to understand what it really means to suffer, and what is tolerable; what is reasonable or unreasonable; what is sustainable and non-sustainable; what's good and what's REALLY GOOD. What are you really willing to do to keep your misery to a minimum? What are you really ready to give up for the good of the collective? If you've never had to give up shit, or have barely seen what misery looks like, you'll be willing to stand your ground on the most minuscule compromise. You'll hold on to a "principle" that's really just a manifestation of stubbornness. If you really haven't gone through shit, it'll look reasonable to you.

Some fears are healthy and others irrational, but we pass them all down through our teachings and through our actions. We are always being watched by the ones we love. Everytime we think something is enough, we'll learn the world doesn't work that way. You always have to fuel the machine, to feed the beast.

Some muthafuckas are determined never to learn Lesson One.

Peace,
KZ

Fed

2008-08-19T15:29:00.002-04:00

This is how you know it's some shit in the game. I was late for work today. I was about an hour late. I have to arrive at work at 8:00 am. I woke up at 4:00 am, it takes me about 30 minutes to get ready, and my drive to work is only about 15 minutes. How was I late? I sat down and watched TV for four hours this morning, trying to make myself get up and go to work. I finally got there at 8:45.

I couldn't figure out what suit to wear, either. I desperately wanted to put on a polo shirt and some khakis. I didn't wanna put on a suit.

I know what it is. This is that same shit that manifests itself everytime I'm done.

I don't have the capacity to care about work anymore. Not that I ever really did, but now it's showing itself in the most visually obvious ways. I'm half-shaving, not really combing my dome, shoes unshined, ties not matching, office in disarray. I'm just fucking here. Until I'm not here.

Basically just breathing.

KZ

A Random List

2008-08-15T10:32:00.003-04:00

Much like Alicia Bridges, I too like the nightlife. I too like to boogie.
Hey, bitches: stop borrowing each other's pants! And stop charging money for people to watch that shit.
I've never wanted to start smoking again like I did when I watched those cats smoke that "cross joint" in Pineapple Express.
I'm no longer in a position to rail against stupidity. I've met the enemy, and he is me.
I love being left alone. People really get mad at you when you don't "bother" them for long stretches of time. I wouldn't be offended, but my friends are salty.
I should be in NYC hangin' with Miss Ahmad. I really should.
I need some fucking perks. Somethin'.
Gotdamn, hip hop sucks.
I have sent out resumes almost every day for 3 months. I haven't had a single fucking call or interview in that time. Not one. Man, fuck.
Oreos, muthafucka.

Malnutrition

2008-08-11T08:57:00.004-04:00

My ego is pretty big. Most of the time, I try to be self-deprecating just so I'll come off as less of an asshole, but really I think pretty highly of myself. Sometimes it's hard to come to grips with the reality that maybe, just maybe, you're not all that you think you are to all people.

Case in point, we're in the middle of planning this wedding. I'm not so much into the wedding thing, but I'm in the "go along to get along" phase. Whatever'll make this thing go, I'm with it. Everybody in the world knows that a woman's wedding is something she's thought about and pictured for many, many years. She has a vision and she'll try to match that vision the best way she can. Everybody in and around the wedding have been selected for years in advance. Everybody except the groom, that is. That's the interchangeable piece. The groom is just whatever African happened to pop the question. The wedding doesn't change one iota to fit a groom's personality or ideals. Most dudes laugh that shit off. I did as well. It got less funny the more I thought about it though, a lot less funny. That's ego.

This could very well be Joe, Jake, or Johnny's wedding. One monkey don't stop no show. Who gives a fuck who the groom is?

In the meantime I gotta get pep talks from my biggest fans (my mother and Three) just to keep my ego fed. That's kinda fucked up, but it's true.

This wedding thing is like a force of nature. I'mma go find some shelter.

Peace,
KZ

When Has It Ever Worked?

2008-07-31T14:02:00.002-04:00

"Hey baby, why you lookin' so mean?"

Muthafuckas make me laugh. Game is a lost art. I used to have it. I haven't had it in a minute or two. I don't need it now, but damn, it would be nice to have.

"You lookin' good girl!"

I'll bet she is, fella. I'll bet she is. But is yelling that as she strides purposefully with her 5 friends to get in line for this party gonna get her to stop? Nope. Next time try laying a 10 dollar bill in the street and saying "Miss, you dropped this!"

My boy Three told me something a long time ago that makes all the sense in the world. I don't know if it really works, because I'd only tried it with female friends and not "prospects". He said "Compliment a woman the way another woman would and she'll be more responsive." He didn't say it quite like that, because Three is kinda illiterate, but you get the idea. "I like your shoes." "I like that color on you." Instead of "DAMN, you got a big ole ass!", which was my preferred expression. I really gotta ask Three if his bullshit method ever worked.

"Ay, sweetheart, lemme holla at you a minute."

Probably the most subtle shit I've heard today. It's not overly aggressive but it's still pretty ignorant. If she stops, you got an even shot. If not? Sucks to be you. I say work on your shit a little more and come back a little harder than that.

My shit was always situational. I had these scenarios worked out for all these different situations. If she's standing here, then I'll comment on that. If she's doing that, I'll do this and then we'll cross paths. It's laughable that shit that worked well.

To the cats that still think this shit is fun, I salute you. But you gotta fuckin' do better than this!

Peace,
KZ

Childlike Wonder

2008-07-23T12:31:00.005-04:00

As jaded as I am, I'm still amazed by many things in this world. Most of my amazement stems at how stupid people are, so I'm not sure that counts. All I know is people in general are stupid and/or ballsy.

John Edwards was running for President. He was my preferred candidate, because of his ideas on health care reform. You see, that's my big issue. People have to stick with shitty gigs because they need the health care. I think people are happier and, of course, healthier, if getting health care wasn't dependent on the beneficence (or lack thereof) of industry. Chase your dreams and fuck the benefits package.

John Edwards has been fucking around on his wife. Once again, I'm not amazed, but this shit is SOOOO blatant, and has been talked about in hushed tones for the entire campaign, I couldn't believe it's just now getting run. That's not even the half. This muthafucka made a baby with the mistress.

If he was ever gonna get back in the saddle for that number 2 slot, it's effectively done. Thanks, Haircut.

I've talked about running for office, but my skeletons run deep. After this shit, my little skeletons seem like a single bone (literally!!!). The more politicians fuck up on a large scale, my shit looks more and more petty.

I'm counting on more amazing displays of stupidity. It keeps me young.

KZ

Let's All Be Dumb

2008-07-22T12:33:00.002-04:00

My assistant sent out an email yesterday reminding the secretaries to watch their timeliness when arriving at work, that the public expects them to be there at the reception desk at 8:00 am. My secretary sent him a scathing reply, telling him she didn't like being included in an email admonishing bad behavior, especially since she wasn't a tardy person EVER.

She told me about the email she sent back to my assistant. I asked her why she sent it. She told me that she didn't like being included in the email. I told her it was a blanket email and that she should disregard anything that didn't apply to her. She was beside herself with anger. The ideal that someone would impugn her good name by including her on that email. No one sends her emails that commend her on coming in early. The nerve of us!!! Crazy bitch.

There's this cat in the town over that's just running through hoes, one after the other, just bangin' 'em out. The women are enthralled because he's got a lot of style and he's a DOCTOR!!! OMG, a single black doctor! Wait, you say he's a chiropractor? So he's only a "doctor". They are impressed by a gotdamn "doctor". He might as well be a cop or a cashier. Fucking lunatics.

This place in general makes me wanna take my life with a bullet to the temple. Just blow my own fucking head clean off.

KZ

It's Movietime Again!

2008-07-21T11:09:00.005-04:00

Yo, I went to the movies this weekend and I had a lot of fun. That's pretty unusual for me. I hate theaters and sticky floors (self-created floors excluded) but I had a lot of fun sitting in darkness for 2+ hours watching Batman Gets His Ass Acted Off The Screen By A Dead Guy. Seriously, fuck hype, but He.ath Le.dger Deserves the next Best Actor Oscar, plus the one after that for good measure. You know any good magic tricks? Fuck!

Anyway, this weekend got me in the mood to write again. I don't have anything worth a damn, just some ideas that might work in a serviceable movie.

Like, you ever seen one of those movies where someone gets shot in the heart, but they have something covering their hearts that keep them from getting killed? Like the bastard has a lead covered bible in his breast pocket or something? Well I'd like to have a scene like that in the movie I write. Except where there's usually something that saves the guy my shit would make it worse. "John only got a flesh wound in the calf. Unfortunately, he was hiding nitro glycerine in his sock, so when the gunman shot him, KABOOM!!!"

Also, I want to write something about a mix of people of all nationalities, races and ages who all inhabit this finite space. They are all sentenced to die at some random time that they can't figure out, but their captor is definitely hell bent on killing them all. With this hanging over their heads, they try to find ways to gain favor with the captor so that he'll let them off the hook. They feign being selfless and kind. They try to create a positive atmosphere in the room. They try to be the most popular or the one who possesses the most things. They try a bunch of different stuff, just to show the cat that's watching them that they should be spared. Then they find out a cruel twist. There's nothing they can do to be spared. I'd call this movie "Life On Earth". The funny thing about it we're all in that movie RIGHT NOW!!! Ooooh! Deeeeep!

Man, I had fun this weekend, but in general, fuck the movies.

Peace,
KZ

Ultramagnetic KZ

2008-07-18T09:24:00.003-04:00

I attract the weird and neurotic (no offense readers). It's just what I do. The people I make friends with or hang around with definitely have an eccentric bent. I don't think I do, but hell, I'm me. I'm not supposed to think I'm weird.

Case in point: My friend Agent Zero. She's got two shorties, ages 12 and 14, who are currently in the south visiting their father. Their deadbeat father, who has never spent ANY time with them before this summer and has never sent any cash. By whom she got pregnant the second time while engaged to somebody else. She's lamenting that he's had a vasectomy, after 7 illegitimate children. She'd like to have another child and she'd like them all to have the same father. The same deadbeat loser father.

I got another friend, Jayne Kennedy, a chick I talked about on these very pages around 2 1/2 years ago. She's trying to find her life mate. But not just any life mate. No, no, this dude has got to be GREEK, a member of the Pan-Hell. Because she's a dedicated member of her sorority and a regular cat just can't understand her and her relationship to her sorors. She is 33 years old. She's been a Greek for 12 years. It is not in the least played out for her or at least ebbed a little bit. She's on all the little Divine Nine sites and always para'ed up, 12 years later.

Lastly, I'd like to talk about Curly. This cat is never satisfied. He's marginal looking, slow witted, and has bad dental work. He's 43 years old and looking for the perfect woman. Chick after chick gets introduced to him to no avail. He claims he wants "a dime". He's a fucking nickel, and I'm being generous. The only chick he has eyes for is the chick I'm with. I'm sorry to tell him(actually I'm not) it's too late for him and her. But I'll let him keep bitching about what's not out there and stop trying to lead that horse to water.

I'd be less frustrated if these people didn't like me so much and want to hang around me. The thing is, as much as I try to be an island, I can't. I need in the flesh friends around me too. It just need to see what it is in me that keeps attracting the looniest people on Earth.

Peace,
KZ

The Respect Of A Lie

2008-07-15T07:57:00.002-04:00

I've been talking a lot to my boy, Three, out in LA and I've been able to get a lot of shit off my chest. It's probably why I've been blogging less. Shit that I can't air out because of my audience I'm able to tell him and get instant feedback. It's a beautiful thing. Good ol' fashioned communication.

The one thing we talked about for a long time is the concept of respect and the different ways we demonstrate it, or lack of it, to others. Most women realize the concept of the respect of a lie. I think appreciation of the concept comes with age. They also realize when to use it themselves.

If you used to date a dude with goo-gobs of money, extremely handsome, smart, kind, fun, etc., that's cool. We get it. But if everytime you bring him up you talk about how fun, handsome and paid he was, I'mma take umbrage to that shit. I'mma say go back to that muthafucka if he'll take you. Because you sound like you settlin' for me. And what the fuck do I want with a loser that can't keep a man she REALLY likes?

For instance, I used to date many, many women that were beautiful, extremely fit, sexy and eager to fuck. But I don't talk about it (person to person at least) unless prompted. And even then I'll temper my response.

Here's where the respect of a lie comes in. The times we had will always be clarified as "a-ight" or "straight", perhaps even "cool". But they won't be "oh my god we had sooooo much fun, she was the best!!!" I respect you enough to lie.

I extend that respect to when I'm being bored to death by the one-hundredth telling of the story about the one time your Uncle Skeet bought a 10-cent pickle for 5-cents. I extend it to when you talk about shoes, hats, fancy soap, Oprah, Tyler Perry or Grey's Anatomy. You extend it me when I talk about Iron Man, the NFL, barber shop talk, my boys, or The Wire.

Conceptually, it's very simple. It's much harder in practice. But make no mistake, it is respect.

KZ

Back To Hell

2008-07-07T09:03:00.002-04:00

One week in the D has taught me a few things. Sphincter control must be practiced while masturbating. Old friends are sometimes just friends from a long time ago. Good customer service is STILL not an African American virtue. Sex appeal and lack of modesty are not one in the same. Girls with big asses don't automatically know how to clap it, it's still got to be practiced. Six foot three and a half inches, 300 pounds still make a black man invisible to white people, except when standing behind them at an ATM or walking on a dark street. There is no such thing as enough corruption. It's hard for a man to be ultra-masculine on a merry go round.

I'm back, boys and girls. Back to this meaningless, bullshit gig I complain about with no end in sight. At least my boss is gone for the week so I get to do TWO jobs I hate instead of the one. Lucky, lucky me.

Be cool, alright?

KZ

John Cougar Summercamp

2008-06-27T10:03:00.000-04:00

Well it's Friday. I don't have to come back to this god-forsaken hell hole until July 7th. I get to relax on the sunny shores of Crime Village for 10 days because airline fares are off the fucking chain. But at least I won't be here. At the very least.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm too fucked up to be a success. I mean a REAL success. I hate dealing with people and I have lots of patience issues. I get presented with opportunities and I'm too lazy to follow through. I'm in the midst of that right now.

People call me and they always want something. I'm too fucking lazy to be the point person for anything. Phone calls make me sleepy. Bitchin' ass people make me ill.

Every gig I'm at I feel an overwhelming need to get the fuck out of it as soon as possible. In this economy it's not working like I'd like it too, so I feel even more stuck.

I'll take next week off and relax somewhat, though wedding planning will be going on all around me. Try to do something in Detroit that Vegas, with the 1,000 conference sessions I had to attend, couldn't do: take my mind off this fucking job.

See Y'all Later,
KZ

NASA

2008-06-25T18:50:00.002-04:00

"I'm no rocket scientist...."

I can't tell you how many times I've started sentences like this, but I might be wrong. How can everybody else be so fucking dumb, so petty, so fucking backwards....

I can't fucking listen anymore. My ears are hard. My heart is empty. Fuck your city. Fuck your problems.

You are slowly but surely making me rethinking my whole career. This isn't what I've signed up for. Not by a long shot.

Don't let poor people live near my house, but please Satan's Anus, build a dog park for Ranger. He loves to frolic.

Don't increase your tax base by selling the property by mine to a developer, but please provide us with more amenities. I don't give a fuck how you pay for them, just don't raise my taxes.

Why come talk to me about my opinions if you won't do what I say, regardless of how counterintuitive it is?

Man, fuck y'all. Fuck all of y'all. It looks like I'm stuck with y'all for the time being. But still, fuck y'all.

KZ

Eukanuba

2008-06-11T13:46:00.003-04:00

Today is another one of those days. My boss called in today and decided he'd like to spend this glorious day at home with his wife (who's a teacher and off for the summer) and kids (who are...kids, and off for the summer). That leaves me in charge. What that means is I inherit meetings and shit. Responsibility, I got in scads, but meetings I generally avoid, as you readers already know.

I didn't know he wasn't coming in. I didn't know until I turned on my computer today and read the email from him. Today started off badly anyway. I got here at around 9. Work starts at 8. I woke up at 8:30, so I think that's pretty good to get here and 9 and not smell like ass and feet. The thing is people think they NEED everything from the boss. We have an amazing dearth of self starters here, so when I walk in, it's like "Finally, I can be instructed on if and when to breathe." Gosh, I hate these bastards.

The trivial becomes necessary and the necessary becomes an emergency. The questions become dumber.

Peace,
KZ

P.S. Ladies, don't ask me if I'm getting nervous about getting married. The analogy? Say you're about to fuck a dude for the first time. He's about to penetrate, you look down and realize he has four more inches of dick than you've ever taken in your life. Either you can balk and say "Fuck that, he's not putting that monster in me!" Or you can relish the opportunity as a new experience that you might just enjoy. It's not about nerves, it's about being ready for what life holds for you.

Until Somebody Stops Me (The Donut Day edition)

2008-06-10T14:31:00.003-04:00

Derision
Look at you. Yeah, eat it up. You fuckin' Wal-Mart shopping loser. I'll stand by and make small talk with you, all the while trying to hide my scorn behind this venti cup of latte. That's right. Enjoy those fucking donuts while I fuck you out of your labor rights.

Pandering
"Why, you're welcome! It's the least I can do for such a hard working staff." False fucking flattery to you dime a dozen muthafuckas. You're cheaper than those donuts!!!! Is this the shit that makes you happy? Me deigning to talk to you mouth breathing bastards? Hunh?

Bold Face Lies
"Of course I'm working to get you more money. You deserve it. Irreplaceable you. Here, have another donut."

False Camaraderie
Yeah, sure. I know exactly what you're going through. I know what it's like to be a sad, sad motherfucker with no marketable skills whatsoever. I also know what it's like to overvalue my importance to a bureaucratic machine, set up for "replacing missing cogs". Yeah. I'm right with you. Look, we're bonding!

Underlying Impatience
"Um, are we finished with the donuts yet? I gotta get back to work. Yeah, I know. I enjoyed this chance to chat too. But duty calls. Ha, ha. Get it? Duty? Doody? This work is like shit! Ha, ha!"

I might have a future as a politician yet.

Be Cool,
KZ

No One Hates Brooklyn More Than Me

2008-06-09T13:27:00.002-04:00

I love weekends where there's nothing to do but lie around without power. It's actually one of my favorite things, unless of course I want to eat the food that's in my own house. But that's another story. This weekend was actually the weekend I needed, one where I got to navel gaze and ignore the outside world. Where I got to think about me and what I want.

You wanna know what it is that I want? More sleep. All the time. More fucking sleep.

I wish I was an instructor at a girls school. Not a teen girl school, I'm not lookin' for no pervy shit to go down, but a younger girls school. One of the first things I'd let them know is there's a cut off date for using a baby voice to get what you want. And there's also a short list of people that shit will work on. If you're in your twenties or thirties, it will only work with people that want to fuck you. There is no power in appropriating a baby voice outside of that.

What is an art fair that has only two tents with art for sale? Bullshit is what I'd call it, but that's just me. I basically ate an elephant ear and kept it movin'. Fucking fake art fair.

I'm supposed to be thankful to have a job, right? Remind me why again.

Be Easy,
KZ

Consolation Prize

2008-06-04T23:20:00.002-04:00

It's not the NBA Championship, but fuck it, I'll take it.

My Negro Problem

2008-06-03T08:45:00.002-04:00

I've basically been dealing with an increased case of snobbishness for the past few months. I don't know where it's come from, but I'm dealing with Uppity African syndrome and I don't know how to shake it.

I'm no elitist. I come from a blue collar background, with only me and one of my sisters as college grads. My high school was consistently rated last in academic achievement behind the 27 other schools. I'm from the east side of Detroit and went to the "other school" in the state of Michigan. I'm a slob and a ignoramus, but that doesn't stop me from looking down my nose at some other people.

I know this chick that's out of work and she was asking me if I knew of any jobs available. She's looking for some sort of management position. I was instantly offended. What the fuck kind of circle do I run in that I can get a job for a chick that's 10 credits short of a general business degree from The University of Phoenix? I really have no right to try to bag on anybody's self improvement, and virtual campuses are an innovative concept, but fuck that, really. Ain't nobody lettin' you manage shit but a Chicken Shack if that's your primary degree. And that shit hasn't even been obtained yet.

Another person asked me about getting a relative of theirs involved in the work I do. I asked what their major was and got the response that they only had a high school diploma. Muthafucka, that African can clean up the office after the professionals leave.

My problem is inherently a negro problem. We still don't know how the game is played. Certain credentials are "needed" for certain work. I'm not saying that my job can't be done by a grade schooler, but the fact is no one will hire one to do the work.

There are a ton of jobs that take shit like hard work, talent, family connections, etc. to get to a position of power. Those jobs are usually in the entertainment and athletic arenas. All the gigs I know about throw around bullshit about "schooling" and "certification" and "competency". Assholes!

I just wish Africans would stop thinking that a good word from Big Zed is gonna make "the man" forget that credential barrier that he put up to keep us out in the first place. That's all I'm sayin'.

Peace,
KZ

Gooses

2008-05-30T13:02:00.002-04:00

It is finally Friday. The weekend couldn't come quick enough. Mind you, this was a short work week anyway. It just didn't feel like it.

My staff went nuts and shit, talking about how insulted they felt because such and such got to do something and they didn't. Boo hoo, bitches.

I had paperwork like you wouldn't believe. Any entity set up NOT to make money is in for fucking problems in the first place here in America. Some people only believe in the profit motive, so for them civil service is for the birds. To navigate the waters and get things done is a miracle, if only because of all the paperwork you gotta fill out to cover you ass if you spend a nickel of the city's money. It's unbelievable how much of the same paper came across my desk to sign and re-sign for one single project. Then I had to chase down minutes to a series of meetings to prove that the expenditure was actually properly approved. Then the purchasing department hazes your ass. It's a fucking nightmare, says the guy with a masters in public administration.

Then it's the meetings. Everything's literally resolved within 12 minutes on average. Minus the small talk, what everyfuckingbody did that weekend, cute shit their kids said, good natured ribbing about somebody's dumb ass tie, the meetings would be 12 minutes. I've sat in meetings for the better part of 5 hours each 8 hour work day. If meetings actually lasted 12 minutes, I could all of them in one day and still have time to work on the shit I need to that come from the meetings. But if they wanna pay me to sit in meetings, fuck it. As a matter of fact, fuck that. I hate meetings. You can't pay me enough to enjoy 'em.

I'm glad I get to relax at the crib this weekend. TAD's coming here so I don't have to pack and drive. I will be drinking extensively though. Grey Goose and cranberry. Lots of gooses.

Peace,
KZ

Work Be Hard, Yo

2008-05-28T10:53:00.002-04:00

When I tell you I'm trapped in a hellish cycle of getting more assignments and going to more meetings, I'm sure the absolute frustration will not register with you, dear reader.

When you're asked to go to more and more meetings, you get assigned more shit to do. The more meetings you go to, the less time you have to actually do the shit you're assigned. I'm in a situation where I can't even delegate work right now, because the shit I have to do is detail oriented. I don't trust the idiots on my staff with that level of detail. So I'm stuck. Paperwork piled to the top of my head. Shit is thick, yo.

I'm taking a break to write so y'all won't think I'm dead. Everything's still everything. Still getting married, still job hunting, still hating Satan's Anus, still not writing my book. Last weekend I came up with yet another book idea, but I forgot it. I was really excited too. That fucking sucks.

I'll write again as soon as I'm able.

Peace,
KZ

Birfday Wishes, X

2008-05-19T11:52:00.002-04:00

Keep it moving.

Peace,
KZ

Why The Fuck Would I Be In A Good Mood?

2008-05-15T22:47:00.004-04:00

Since 2008 started:

Number of resumes sent: 34
Number of interviews: 2
New apartments: 1
Unpacked apartments: 0
Times bad judgment exhibited by staff: 14
Times it bit me in the ass: 3
Average number of people to ask me about the wedding, daily: 3
Most days in a row drinking alcohol: 5
Number of overwhelming assignments, concurrent: 4
Average number of sexually active days per month: 3
Average times masturbated per month: 84
Average number of days worked per month: 20
Most good days in a row: 1
Number of times I've seen an actual ass in a thong: 1
Number of times I dye my goatee in a month: 4
Average number of headaches per week: 4
Weekly nacho intake, one pound bags: 2
Number of dress shirts: 27
Number of blue jeans: 2

Be Cool,
KZ

Miscellania

2008-05-14T10:16:00.003-04:00

Big Hot Funky Shit Encrusted Mess

I was in a meeting yesterday and we had a "community activist" in the office. In this town (or in most towns, actually) that means a jobless or underemployed kook that has nothing better to do than bemoan the lack of Neighborhood Watch signs on his or her block. This lady represents her neighborhood in a paid position. All I've ever seen her do is smoke and eat. One time I came to her office to meet with her and she was sleeping HARD with her head on her desk, snoring and slobbering. She's a black lady with a short, perpetually uncombed afro that always seems to have a lint ball in the front of it. She has questionable bathing hygiene and a lack of coordination that couldn't be achieved by Stevie Wonder or the Governor of New York. Yesterday, her stankin' ass had on some manner of headwrap that would have to be seen to be believed. No, I didn't listen to the broad, I was too busy holding my breath. I have no idea what she talked about.

The Short Sleep

Is it possible for a man to die from boredom? Last night I could not fall asleep. I was awake until 4:00 am with the alarm clock set for 6:30 am. Reading boring shit didn't work. Masturbation? No thanks. My dick is currently chapped from overindulgence. Solitare, infomercials, downloading obscure hip-hop ("Come Take A Ride" from World Renown? Anyone?), nothing worked. It was finally when I thought about the prospect of another full day of meetings did I start to get sleepy. I cannot fucking wait for the opportunity to control my calendar without interference from the boss.

Human (The Shep Pettibone Remix)

Last Thursday, I was out with some friends, drankin' and shit. This friend of a friend who I'd just met started asking me about what I do. It turns out she knew my boss. So she asked me if he was fucking his assistant. I laughed. You would too if you knew the kind of corny milquetoast assed dude he is. But of course I don't really put shit past anybody, so I stopped laughing and told her I didn't think so. She told me about being at a meeting with the two of them and he was openly glaring into her low cut blouse. I really blew that shit off. I'd never seen him publicly acknowledge a sexual impulse. Not an offhanded remark, nothing, in nearly 3 years. I shrugged it off and didn't mention that conversation to a single soul.

So today I came in my office from a meeting with my boss and Auntie Anita was in there waiting for me to return. I asked her what was up. She said "You wanna know something crazy? I was in a meeting yesterday with Allan and he kept looking down my shirt." I laughed hard. Boy, did I laugh. Three years of nothing and now I've heard two accounts of horndogism in the span of less than a week. I don't begrudge him that. He's 42 years old and has been married to his high school sweetheart since 1990. Let him look. He just has to be a little slicker about it. At least now I know this cat is human.

Flat Randy

Randall will be headed to Cleveland today. You can look for his exploits on Monie's page at http://monieinthemiddle.blogspot.com/

Take some good photos, Monie. And don't let him eat dairy. He's lactose intolerant.

Peace,
KZ