Safe At Home

Hey y'all. I'm back at work, sick as a friggin' dog. I got a cold this weekend and I'm feeling miserable. I'm writing 'cuz I owe y'all that, seeing as I built up what I was gonna do when I got home. The bottom line is this, I got laid but only once. I know y'all like "Hey African*! You said you wuz gonna bone all these women. What happened? Did you get dissed?" OK, nosy. I'll tell you what happened.

The first thing I did when I got back was go out for drinks with my platonic friend. I figured I'd catch the broads I 'd be bonin a little later. That was cool. We were in a new spot that had a good atmosphere. But she asked me something that I keep getting asked by people, "Do you ever smile?" She doesn't know this (well she does now), but that got me in a reflexive mood. What the fuck does make me happy? I mean, I'm outta the Anus, back home, and I'm about to rack up a body count comparable to Rambo. Happiness is relative. I wasn't really upset, I just don't smile a lot.

When she left, I called Fiona. Fiona was supposed to be last, but she got moved up because I changed my mind about Torina and Pinky, Lillie, Big Fun, and Tonya were all otherwise engaged. So Fiona came to my hotel room. And we fucked. A lot. In the middle of it she had to hop up. "I gotta go to the bathroom!" So she got up peed and came back. And we kept going. And going. And going. Then I came. And it happened.

A man's interest escapes from his body from his vans deferens. I came and I wanted her to leave so bad, you could feel it in the air. We're laying on the bed and hear this young African* and his broad walking past my room. "This African* is fuckin' the shit outta some bitch." His woman responds "I heard that shit! 'Oooh, I gotta go pee!' heheeheehee". Now I wanna curl up and evaporate. She starts licking my fingers, sucking my nipples and sucking my dick. Every molecule in my body is screaming "Leave me alone!". She continues. I start to think about the rest of my time in the city. It's gonna be like this every single day. I start out horny, I buss, then I hate the chick.

"Hold me!" she demands. "Stop touching me" I respond. "You wasn't saying that a little while ago." "Touche, African*, touche" This was around 1:30 am. She stayed until 5:00 am. I walked her to her car and sighed relief. There was no fuckin' way I was gonna spend the rest of my time home like this. I talked to Big Fun, Lillie, Tonya, and Shelly when I was at home, plus Daisy, a woman I hadn't mentioned before, just to touch base with them. Shelly and Daisy gave me carte blanche to come through whenever I felt like it.

I went over Pinky's house on Monday. She was wearing a silk robe with nothing underneath. I cracked her for the ass and she said she wanted to cuddle. I was pissed. Then I realized I just asked for the ass out of habit. I didn't wanna be stuck there with her silly ass all night, all obligated and shit. I was over there for a while and she started talking about us as a couple again. And I left. Women sure know how to get a man the fuck up outta their faces! Relationship talk is dick-kryptonite.

When I left on Tuesday, I felt confident that I'd gotten "Homesick fever" outta my system. I'll be OK in the Anus for a minute.

One,
KZ

*I've found that you can offend more black people by calling them Africans than you can by calling them Niggas. Sad but true. Walk into a room and say "Hey Niggas!" you'll probably get a smattering of responses. Replace Niggas with Africans, cats will be like "Who you callin' an African." It's a funny little study in sociology.

The Inevitable

Hey y'all. It's a beautiful day in the Anus. (Never thought I'd ever read or write that sentence in life!) . The boss is out so I'm in charge in this week and next. I made today a casual day, so folks are pretty geeked. I still had to wear a friggin' suit because of some meetings I have. My boss is a stickler about dress. I gives a fuck. I also plan to shut this bitch down early so I can make my way to Detroit. I got a lot of unfinished business there, with several women.

First off is Torina. This is a woman I've never been with. Aching to see a nigga. It's all status-related. I sucked when I was there, but now as I make a little loot and have a little title, so to her now it's cool. Back in the day, the term for her was Sack-Chaser. Now I guess it's Gold-Digger. Short assed haircut, tall, big booty, dark skin. She'll be fucking for free tonight. I'm on some Biggie/R. Kelly shit. Torina, I'm fuckin' you tonight.

Next off is Pinky. Pinky is my ex-girlfriend from friggin' 1995. We broke up because I didn't wanna have kids with her. She's kinda dizzy and shit. That's why I call her Pinky. We've been in touch through the years except the short time I was married. We messed around right before I moved to Satan's Anus, but we didn't screw. She called me a couple of nights ago and said she was about to move into a serious relationship with the guy she's been dating. Then, she asked if we could fuck before that. I was taken aback. She's kinda like Batshit with her religiousity(word?) and shit. "You gotta gimme some!" You bet, Pinky. You bet.

After her, I'll be seeing either Big Fun, Lillie, or Tonya, depending on my mood. Big Fun is the default choice. Tall, dark and beautiful. Lillie, if I feel like listening to strange theories and laughing a lot. Tall, light and beautiful. Or Tonya, the wild ass, drinking and non-stop fucking broad that you can't talk to about anything at all. All she wants is dick, dick, dick. Then she gets melancholy when you don't respect her mind. Women!

The next up is Shelly. Shelly is a stand up comedienne. Funny as fuck and cool. She's not pretty by any stretch, but she is built ridiculously. The consistent thing about unattractive women is their insistence that they be taken "out". Anywhere. I've found that the more attractive the woman, the less insistent she is on being seen "out". She'll want to go out and try to hold my hand. I'll cringe, then I'll look at her body, and I'll smile and oblige.

The last on this tour is Fiona. Fiona was the first chick (there has been one other) to come to my door with a long coat, butt naked underneath. One time we had sex for 7 hours straight, with me cumming a record amount of times. I honestly stopped counting at 9. I used to call her the Magnificient. I called her yesterday to make sure she was still available. She implored me to call her. "Don't come home and forget me. I need to see you. Badly." Fuck! I'll be saving the best for last.

When I come back here on Tuesday, I'll be a shell of myself. A happy assed shell.

Enjoy Your Holidays,
KZ

The Year of The Inconsiderate Bastard

Yo, yo! What's good, niggas? I was doing my annual "Year In Review" where I look back at all the positive shit I accomplished since January. It hasn't been bad this year. In fact, it's been pretty good. As I've been thinking about it, I couldn't help to notice that societally and culturally it's been a pretty fucked up year. So personal shit aside, that's the shit I wanna talk about today.

There has always been a place in society for the inconsiderate bastard a.k.a the asshole. The muthafucka that is equal parts arrogant and non-empathetic. You know this muthafucka. The kind of dickhead who looks at niggas on their roofs after being flooded out of their homes and says shit like "Why didn't they have enough money to leave? That's what they get!" You see these fucks everywhere. In bars, barbershops, churches, the White House, Fox News, etc. A person in need is a fucking loser that should have known better to these fucks.

It's been that kind of year, though. An inconsiderate bastard is liable to get a pat on the back from the President, telling him he did a good job when he's done nothing. The type of muthafucka that tells you saying "Happy Holidays" is akin to treason or denouncing Christian belief when all you're doing is acknowledging not only Christmas but all other holidays that fall with the same time span. An inconsiderate bastard is the same muthafucka that blows cigarette smoke in a pregnant woman's face, then tells her to lighten up and stop being so "P.C."

My problem is that the inconsiderate bastard has been winning and winning big. The inconsiderate bastard is consulted, listened to, and rewarded in this society. The inconsiderate bastard is against stem cell research until one of his loved ones gets sick. And no one calls him on it. The inconsiderate bastard loves talk radio, country music/metal/materalistic hip-hop, big logos on their clothes, message t-shirts, and wearing sunglasses indoors. You know that nigga. You might be that nigga. If so, congratulations dickhead. You've had a magnificent year.

Next year's my year. The Year of The Self-Righteous Know-it-all. Get ready!

Stay strong,
KZ

P.S. White people steal shit!!!

Materials

Hey niggas, what's crackin'? I was working with a extreme case of writers block until this weekend. See, I spent this weekend in Detroit. I was doing a little shopping and shit, makin' it happen for relatives and the like. I was looking through my receipts and I couldn't fucking believe it. In a little over 3 hours of shopping I spent $1200.

My finances ain't pretty and this shit was a little reality check. But imagine if you told your loved ones "Look, I'm really not with the material aspects of the holiday. Understand that I love you and I'll do anything for you. I want to take this time to recommit myself to family." Them niggas will lynch you. Everybody's got their fucking hands out. I'm not even a practicing Christian and these bastards have got me for 12 Hun!

We are to blame because we are the grown folks now. We gotta break this fuckin' cycle, man. This shit ain't supposed to be a free for all. This beggin' shit and grown people gettin' mad at you if you don't give them what they ask for. Nigga, we all work. Buy the shit you want for yourself. And then you won't have the burden of buying me shit. I haven't asked a fuckin' soul for a present since I was 19. I don't want shit. But I'm kinda anti-materialism anyway. I wouldn't expect muthafuckas to be like me.

This thing came to a head this weekend because my ex-girlfriend wants us to exchange presents. She asked me what I wanted, I said "Nothing". I'm being true to life. I've never asked her for anything but pussy. I sighed, then I asked her. She said "A digital video camera!" I have never wanted to choke a bitch so much in my life as I had right then.

I said "Why don't we put price limits on the gift buying?" She was all hurt and shit. She tried to make it like that would limit the shit she could give me. Right. She has not come close to buying me anything of the value that I've bought her for Christmas.

I think we should stop faking it altogether. This ain't about Christ. It's a free for all. Ask for the sky. Fuck fiscal responsibility, saving, and all that shit. Go crazy for the fleeting assed feeling that opening a present gives you. Regret the spending for 6 months and get ready for it again.

Materialism is the most acceptable addiction on Earth. I just don't wanna keep feedin' nigga's habits and shit.

Free Ya Self,
KZ

I Owe You One!

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

The prettiest woman I've never seen has tagged me, so y'all gon' hafta bear wit a nigga.

The Rules:
1. Go into your archive
2. Find your 23rd post
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to it)
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog with these instructions.
5. Tag five other people to do the same.

The fifth sentence in my 23rd post is as follows:
"The only authority figure I recognize as a necessity is Parent, because heaven knows I don't want responsibility for raising your little bastards."

I don't know how likely my tagged folks are to respond, but here goes:
Eclectic Soul, My baby mama overseas, Harlemunkee, NicMoney, and IceColdKeKe

Peace,
KZ

The Snow Keeps Coming

Hey y'all! I hope everything is well. I'm holding it down in my own little purgatory. After almost six months of being asked and invited to every black church in the galaxy, I finally had to tell one member of my staff to cut it out. Being as private as I am, and people taking that as a challenge to find out more about me, made me finally stop being so polite. "I'm not a Christian. I'm not an atheist, a Jew, a Muslim, a Buddhist, or a Hindu either. But I'm not a Christian, so please stop asking me to attend your services."

Now, it's a fucking wildfire. In this small town where there is no such thing as a "different" muthafucka, I'm a different muthafucka. Every sista in this joint is coming up to me in little halfassed manner to figure out if what I said is true. "So, what are you doing for the holidays?" Seems innocuous enough, right? As soon as I answer and walk away, I see the broads going into the office of the ringleader, the first chick that kept asking me to go to church. At some point we'll be having a talk about the appropriateness of such behavior. As the old folks used to say "I'll break 'em the fuck up outta that shit."

So, in the meantime, I'm a pariah as every sista in the valley finds me "unacceptable" because I'm not a Christian. That is except for devout Christian "Batshit", who, as we have established, is batshit. The snow keeps falling. I have had a steady innundation of date requests from non-black women. Last week it came to a head with 3 inquiries to other women about my availability. Yesterday a woman I met out Friday dropped a line to her girl asking if she should ask me out.

I've addressed this issue in a prior post, so I'm not gonna rehash it. But if you've been reading this blog, you should have figured something out by now. I am in a constant struggle between my better judgment and "Zed del Sur". "Zed del Sur" has an insurmountable lead. I'm trying to do betta, but the snow keeps coming.

Your Snowbound boy,
KZ

Everything Is Gay

A.K.A. Blogger Generation Gap

Hey y'all. My birthday on Saturday was O.K. I hooked up with Batshit (please, just shut up) and we went out to eat and to this jacuzzi spot. It was pretty cool. It was actually indescribably cool. So I won't try to describe it. The day before my birthday, Friday, I had an interesting phone conversation with a blogger who shall remain nameless. I'll just go on to say she made me feel as old as fuck when we talked.

MK - 25 year old female blogger/slacker
KZ - 35 year old male blogger/mack

MK: What you dooin'?
KZ: I'm at the mall. I'm about to buy some boots.
MK: What kind?
KZ: Classic Timbos.
MK: You buyin' yourself some birthday boots? That shit is so gay!
KZ: Ooooh, K.
MK: I'm serious nigga. Don't tell nobody else that shit. What you dooin' afta that?
KZ: I think I'm going to the bar. I wanna smoke a little and drink a lot.
MK: Are you depressed? That shit is gay, man!
KZ: What the fuck? That's the second time you've said that about some shit I'm doing. Expand your vocab, nigga.
MK: Expanding your vocab is gay as fuck.
KZ: What are you doing tonight?
MK: I don't know. Why? Do you want me to say what I'm doing so you can call it gay?
KZ: What the fuck is your problem?
MK: *Long assed monologue that I refuse to type* Why are you so quiet?
KZ: I'm paying for my boots.
MK: So you're just on the phone breathing and shit? Breathing is so gay!
KZ: Gotdamn it, KeKe, what the fuck is not gay?
MK: I don't know, but all the shit you're doing is gay.
KZ: Well nigga, where I come from having same gender intercourse is gay. That's how it's defined.
MK: Zed, that's not really gay. That's just sex. Corny shit is gay.
KZ: Are you trying to tell me a nigga could fuck another nigga and you wouldn't say "That shit is gay!"
MK: Naw. That's just sex.

And that's the fucking story of getting old.

Keep warm,
KZ

More Pet Piss

Maybe it's the location that sets me off...

but I stay pissed (remember, I get pissed not peeved) and this fucking blog is my only outlet. It's boring here and everything is magnified. On Saturday I turn 35 and if I have kids I'll be a senior citizen when I'm able to kick it with them on an adult level. So in no particular order, here's a grouchy old man venting about shit I can't stand:

Katherine Zednanreh

Kat, please give up my last name before you have a baby out of wedlock. People will believe that's my baby. We know that's not true, physically impossible. Give me my name back. And that ring I bought. I'll give you back the video tape I made.

Misplaced Latin Pride

My grandparents came from Cuba. My father's people. My (real) last name is of Spanish origin. I'm a nigga, plain and simple. Born and raised in Detroit amongst my people. I have no sense of unity with "Latinos". My father is even less down with "La Raza". The Latinos I know think I'm denying my heritage. Bullshit. Why should the descendants of slaves and indigeneous people take pride in speaking Spanish or having a Spanish surname? Them niggas conquered our people. That's the equivalent of a nigga taking extra pride in how big his slave master's house was. That shit is sad. Be proud of the shared experiences and the cultural outgrowth of the oppression. Everything else from Spain I could piss on. Most "white" and mestizo latins fucking hate black latins, anyway.

Batshit
Hey, insane hoe, cut it out! You run down a list of shit you hate about me and then you beg (yes, beg) me to be your man. What the fuck is that? Your birthday was December 2nd. I didn't get you anything. No present. No card. Is that a hint? What the fuck do you think? "I'm fucking you until I find someone better." Am I speaking in codes? Leading you on? Maybe.

Misplaced Entitlement
Say nigga, if you don't mow your grass or pick trash up off the street you live on, why the fuck should you expect the city to? That's your property, right? Oh, you're just a renter. Well then, that excuses you from all the responsibilities of being a citizen respectful of your neighbors. It's cool to have that car up on blocks in your front yard for 2 or 3 years. What? You've lived in this house for 20 years and the roof leaks? What is the city going to do about it? Are you serious? You are. OK...ummm. Fuck you, hows about that? We don't owe you shit but police protection, water and schools, you fucking dickhead!

The Detroit Lions
Ehhh!

Birthday Celebrations

A few years ago a woman asked me what she should do for her man's birthday. I asked her "Do you love him?". She said yes. I said "Give him a hundred dollars in singles and let him go out with his boys. Tell him he is not allowed home before sunrise the next day." That chick went ballistic. I asked her what she was planning. She said she was going to take him to this expensive italian restaurant and then out dancing. "Does he like Italian?" She got offended again, "I like the place. He'll find something he likes there." "Is he a dancer?" "Not really, but we haven't been dancing in a long time." If you're serious about doing something for someone, be serious. If it's for you, wait til your birthday. Asshole.

"Bright Side" Fuckheads
"It could always be worse." Or it could be better. I could be reading your obituary.


All in all, things really are going pretty well in my life. Except the lack of vaginal variety. And the snow. And my upcoming birthday. And my dumb assed staff. Other than that, shit is just peachy.

Cocked and Loaded,
KZ

Neva Change

Damn you, you pretty ass New Yorker! I've been tagged so I gotta do this. I owe you a spanking. Barebottomed.

I don't know how much of this I'll ever change, but I shouldn't tolerate any of this bad behavior.

Things I have not changed because I have tolerated:

1. My bad fucking credit. I hate paying for shit over and over again so I fuck myself by paying late.

2. Messing with women I can't stand just 'cuz they got bangin' bodies.

3. My friggin' messy house.

4. The way my staff whines to me about everything.

5. My expanding waistline. I gotta get fit without a New Years Resolution.

6. Letting my ex-wife get under my skin.

7. My propensity to fall for women I can't have.

8. Letting "slights" roll off my back until I explode.

9. My anger problem (see #8). I once threatened one of my frat brothers by telling him I would beat his ass, rob him, then fuck him in the ass like a bitch. Needless to say, he no longer speaks to me.

10.Chronic masterbation. I've been known to have sex all day long, then when the woman leaves, beat off two more times.

I'm taggin' Disco Diva, DecaturMunkee, and the Birthday Girl.

Peace,
KZ

Mood Altering Music

A.K.A. The Rip in the Time/Space Continuum

Hey kids, what's crackin'? I was just thinking about songs that I hear that put me right back in the mind frame I was in when they were "popular". Most of the shit I listen to now isn't popular but that wasn't really the case in the past. I came of with a list that wasn't comprehensive but it'll give ya an idea of where I was coming from. I didn't want the list to be too hip-hop heavy because I'm an underground head so I eased back a bit on that. Check this out:

Early life 1970 - 1981
I didn't get to choose too much of the shit I listened to. My parents and my siblings usually picked it. This music always gives me the best memories.

Hard Work - John Handy
Average Joe - Terry Collier
Rock Creek Park - Donald Byrd (Detroit, what?)
Used To Be My Girl - O'Jays
You Are My Starship - Norman Connors
Rapper's Delight - Sugar Hill Gang
Storm Music - Gil Scott-Heron

Pre teen - Teen 1981-1987
The middle school/high school years. I was a huge Prince fan. It was before hip-hop took over completely. I was also a fan of a lot of pop music from the UK. I was a preppy kid that wanted to catapult myself out of the 'hood.

Annie Christian -Prince
Something in The Water - Prince
Fascination - Human League
Owner of a Lonely Heart - YES
Modern Love - David Bowie
The One I Love - R.E.M.
Still A Thrill - Jody Watley
Don't Disturb This Groove - The System
Throw That "D" - 2 Live Crew

College and Beyond 1987-1994
Actually this time frame should be characterized as just "college" because I started in '87 and finished in '94 after being kicked out for a couple of years. This era can effectively be called my slacker period.

I Know You Got Soul - Eric B. and Rakim (woke up to this every day as I prepared for class)
Just Call - Sherrick
Nite And Day - Al B. Sure
Potholes In My Lawn - De La Soul
It Takes Two - Rob Base and D.J. EZ Rock
Understand Me Vanessa - Anttex
Who Got Da Props? - Black Moon
Black Hole Sun - Soundgarden
World Famous - The Beatnuts
Electric Relaxation - A Tribe Called Quest
Otha Fish - Pharcyde
Limitations - Souls of Mischief

Working Adult 1994-1997
I am seriously drawing a blank here. This time frame went by in a blur, which is sad. I can't remember a single song here. I just remember I started thinking that hip-hop was on it's last legs.

Engagement and Marriage 1997-2002
These songs are sometimes hopeful, sometimes regretful. The fact that these songs resonated with me like this should have been a sign. By this time, I fuckin' hated R&B.

U Make Me Wanna...- Usher
Girl You Know What's Up - Donnell Jones
Don't You Forget It - Glenn Lewis
I Wish - Carl Thomas
She's All I Got - Jimmy Cozier
Girl Next Door - Musiq

These songs for whatever reason have left indelible stamps in my brain. For better or for worse, when I hear them the reaction is immediate and emotional.

Be Cool,
KZ

The Gratis Smack

Niggas don't lie! Don't tell muthafuckas it's yours! Don't even fake it like you thought of it first. When you tell niggas about this, and you will tell niggas about this, give me my proper credit. Just say "This nigga I know named Zed came up with that." I'll know if you did or not.

Now let me get to the brass tax. "What is this cat talking about?" I have an idea that I'd like to propose. One that will revolutionize racial relationships in America. I have a solution for the issue of reparations in this country. All I need to do is to propose it to the Congressional Black Caucus or some shit like that.

I propose the "Gratis Smack" in lieu of reparations. Let me tell you how this would work. Once a month for the rest of our natural lives, we get to smack the shit out of a cracka without any reprecussions whatsoever. One time, each and every month. Sitting at work, the boss comes over to you and asks "Where's that report I asked for?" You can reach back and smack the fuck outta that pink faced bitch! One time every thirty days.

This shit would be free so it wouldn't adversely affect the economy. White people would be more polite to Black folks if they realized there would be some immediate reprecussions to the shit they do WITHOUT ANY RETALIATION ALLOWED. Black people would be much happier knowing they can get some small measure of revenge on the oppressor. A white dude cut you off in traffic and you just used a gratis smack? Follow him home and wait a month. As soon as you have a gratis smack credit, go to his house and knock on the door. Watch the fun ensue.

How would this work? Well, every time you smack a cracka, they'll call the police. You know they gon' call the police. The police checks your record to see the last time you smacked a cracka. If it's a legal smack, you're good. Simple as pie!

You say to me "Zed, nigga you think I can be bought off so cheaply with a monthly slap? My ancestors suffered you fuckin' miscreant!" And I say to you, nigga, "What are you getting right now?"

I know what you're thinking. That black muthafucka has too much time on his hands in Satan's Anus. You'd be right too. But admit it, you like this shit. Tell your family and friends. Maybe we can start a movement.

Peace (or not),
KZ

"Dude, weren't you married before?"

Hey y'all, what's up? This post is solely to clear up, or rather reinforce what I wrote in the previous post and not look like a hypocrite. Brooklyn Babe (if that is indeed your REAL name!) kinda called me out on this one, so I'll take the time to explain.

Yeah, ya boy Zed was married. Really for about a 1 1/2 years, but legally about 3 years. My divorce was final December 11, 2003, one day after my 33rd birthday. But we hadn't lived together for 1 1/2 years before then. I didn't get married because I was in love, nor did I get divorced because I didn't love her.

We met when I was 24 and she was 29. I thought this would be some broad I fucked for awhile and then left, but I started to feel her. I liked her. A lot. So I stuck around. We were and tumultuous couple. We fought a lot and made up a lot. It was a real off and on relationship. She became my best friend and my worst enemy. When it was good it, it was excellent.

I wasn't under the illusion that I was in love with her when I got married. We were long past that. It was my sense of duty and my misconception of what it meant to be responsible. When I was pushing 30 I thought I'd strung her along enough. She waited for me to mature, so I should marry her. I thought my misgivings about marriage were just immature longings to stay single and chase pussy. So I pushed them aside and decided to get married. It was all practical. No love involved in the decision. In fact, I believed that I was "in love" with another woman at that time.

I got married on December 24, 2000 in Negril, Jamaica on a beach. Barefoot and high as fuck. I needed to be high, 'cuz I was going to fly back to the "D", unmarried. My boy convinced me to go through with it. When we returned, the only thing that kept me in the marriage was my father.

My father is very conservative and remains a huge influence on the way I think a man should be. I thought that my father would be practical, stay the course, and make things work. As the marriage progressed, I had to admit to myself that I wasn't my father. I left in June of 2002.

That's my sad ass wedding story. I hope you liked it. I didn't!

Be Easy,
KZ

When In Love

Yo, yo, yo! What’s crackin’ folks? It’s been hard to try to write since I’ve been back. As depressing as family is, cold weather is worse. I’ve been pretty down since I got back on Saturday. Even fuckin’ Thelma’s brains out when I was in Detroit didn’t help. Since Sunday I’ve molested myself around 17 times. My dick is sore from jackin’ it. I’m bored as fuck. I’ve been able to focus my feeble thoughts into one blogworthy post. I’ll probably not post again for another week or so. So here goes:

Everybody out there has some inkling of the concept of love. You love people that you don’t even wanna love or think is worthy of your love. We all do it. We got family we can’t fuckin’ stand, but we love them regardless. Shit is uncontrollable and unconditional. But being “in love” is quite another thing. It is the most selfish shit going.

That state of mind, when you’re in love, makes you fucking nuts. The possessiveness and the longing. That shit is just concentrated lust. If y’all fuckin’ or just achin’ to fuck each other, it’s not love, it’s lust. You define that person by what they mean to you instead of what they are. That’s selfish shit. That person not doing what you’d like them to do will make you fall out of love with them. “I love ya, hoe, but I’m not in love wit’ ya!”

My contention is simple. Being “in love” is the fakest shit since Tyra’s titties. Love is real and all encompassing. “In love” is fleeting and ultra-conditional. I’ve fucked more broads “in love” with another nigga than the law allows. ‘Cuz she mad at him. ‘Cuz of some shit he did.

I can’t stand the serial “in love” niggas especially. Didn’t Robert Palmer talk to y’all niggas about that? Stop all that fake shit. Fuck ‘till you sick of each other then decide if you LOVE each other enough to stay together. Banish that silly assed terminology!

I denounce every one of you muthafuckas out there now that claims to be in love. I'm proclamining a jihad on "in love" niggas.

Watch ya back,

KZ

Leon, Big Uncle Zed, and Pro-Social

Hola Overeaters, it's ya nigga, Zed. I'm sitting on my parents patio looking at Leon. Leon's a alligator (or crocodile, since I can't tell 'em apart) that's in this lake behind my parent's house. It's around 80 degrees and looking at the weather report from Satan's Anus I should be grateful.

My Uncle Zed came through today. He was looking good, better than he's looked in quite a few years. He moved to Charlotte from Tampa a few years ago. Big Zed was with his new woman and her daughter. This cat hasn't lost his touch. His woman was off the fucking meat hook. Tall, thick, and pretty. Fuck me, nigga! How can a nigga two years outta prison with so much baggage pull so top shelf? I'll never figure this shit out, but he's doing much better than me. All my nieces and nephews now have to distinguish between us. I'm "Little Uncle Zed". He's "Big Uncle Zed". That's not awkward. Anyway me, Zed, my father, and Pro-Social (my oldest sister's husband) were kicking it on the patio for awhile. My uncle is really a changed dude from what I remember. Thoughtful and curious.

We spent a lot of time out there watching Leon, drinking and talking shit. Pro-Social is my nigga. He's a big, talkative cat from Alabama. He started dating my sister when I was 12, so I've known him forever. He's like another older brother. Pro-Social is the funniest cat I know personally. Quick witted and cool. He is my polar opposite, thusly he's Pro-Social.

That cat makes it easier for me to cope with this smothering family stuff. Him and his son, my youngest nephew, Bugaloo. Bugaloo, age 3, sat on my lap when he first got here and grabbed a dreadlock. "Why did you do this to your hair?" "Cuz it's my hair, little @#$&*!" O.K. I didn't really say that but I thought it.

I guess I'll be alright. I've only seen 2 aunts and 1 uncle from my father's side (out of 9 siblings) and 1 aunt from my mother's side (out of 8 siblings) so my day will be full tomorrow.

Happy Black Friday,
KZ

The Last Stages of Sanity

That Chris Rock shit got y'all niggas gassed/I'm that smarty art nigga that'll whoop yo ass. - J-Live "The Sidewalk"

Hey peoples, I just wanted to document my madness. I don't have anything to say except celebrate Thanksgiving by doing something extremely nice for a Native American. Just like crackas are benefitting from shit their ancestors did to ours, so are we living well (some what) off the foul and evil shit done to Native Americans. Your good deed may have to be largely symbolic because crackas did their foulness so well, there are hardly any Native peoples to do good deeds for. Luckily I know a Native American so I'll try to do something to show I don't appreciate the shit that was done to their people.

Please let them know that we are not celebrating anything more than a couple of days off work. In the meantime, enjoy your family. There's nobody else like them.

Peace,
KZ

Counting Backwards

Hey y'all, what's up? I am really having the most miserable time in my life. I can't explain all the old feelings this place dredges up. There are some really beautiful parts of this city, but I am used to being stuck at my grandmother's house in the 'hood. Too young to drive, stranded and shit. Niggas with mouths fulla gold teeth ("Great Scott, are you a thief?") and shoulder length jheri curls. "Ay, Dee-troit. What's up my niggah!"

I drive around Tampa I realize how shortchanged we were as kids. Like I said, I still fucking hate this city. Shit that passes for cool is a white suburbanite's idea of cool. When was the last time a Hard Rock Cafe or House of Blues was cool? Cats are still trying to make the blackest big city in America into "Hockeytown".

I'm not a family person. When everybody still lived in Detroit, I never saw 'em. In the same house it's hectic. It's claustrophobic. I know I'm supposed to savor these times because heaven only knows when the next time we'll see each other again. Tomorrow's not promised. I'm trying to make this work for me but it's suffocating.

Thanksgiving is that time of year. Extremely stressful. Family will make you lose your fucking mind. This is turning out to be the longest seven days of my life. And it's only the third day. It's time to meditate.

Easy,
KZ

Gush Puppy

Yo, I forgot to put y'all up on the lastest with my love life. Here's a taste:

She climbed on me as I lay prostrate, straddling my midsection. We were both naked and we looked at each one another with trepidation. The sun shone through the window, the tv muted as Judge Mablean broke down another relationship into dollars and cents. She reached beneath her and grabbed the base of the shaft as she lifted her lower half to accommodate it.

"We should stop doing this" she offered, sitting on the head, lowering herself slowly down on shaft. When it entered her she exhaled and grabbed my hair. "Why?" I asked. She was hitting me on the chest, punishing me for going in so deep even though she was on top, controlling how much she took. "Because if we don't, I'm going to fall in love with you." She started to bounce faster. I looked at the clock. We should only do this for another thirty minutes. We both had to get back to work. I looked her in the face hating her for the real world intrusion into the quickie. But she was right. We had to stop, but not because of my fear of falling in love. It was because I was truly appreciating the magnitude of what was happening. This is my only local source of pussy. That ain't good. I was getting too comfortable. The more reliant I was on her, the less control I had on the situation. I gotta go fuck some other broads, whether it be on campus or in another nearby city, I gotta do it.

When I snapped back it was because my lower torso was awash in an orgasmic excretion that had followed her high pitched emission. She came, but I didn't have time to. "Let's go take a shower" Batshit said. I followed, sure of my next step.

I'll be back in town next Saturday, fasting and meditating. No solid foods, no fucking. 30 days. We'll see how this goes. Of course you'll be the first to know if I fuck up.

The latest and greatest,
KZ

A Little Miserable

Hey y'all, what's good? I'm on vacation in Tampa. You'd think I'd be thankful to be in warm weather after freezing my balls off in Satan's Anus, but I'm not. The truth is I'm here cuz my mama misses me. That's it. I'm sitting in a suburb of a city that's practically a suburb. This too is the boondocks. I can't get a fucking signal for my cell phone until I drive 3 miles from my parents house. This is not a colorful exaggeration.

The weather should be a bonus, but honestly I'd rather spend Thanksgiving freezing alone in Michigan. In a few days this place will be crawling with my siblings, my nieces and nephews, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and miscellaneous nigritos. My Uncle Zed is coming, too. Yep, Uncle Zed. I was named after my father's brother. A "formerly" drug addicted pimp. This cat has made it so I'm afraid to get pulled over in Tampa. "Oh my god, this is Zed Zednanreh! Call for backup!" This cat used to use my business cards to pull women, to much better effect than me I'm afraid.

The main thing is as soon as he arrives, I'm Little Zed. All my freakin' life whenever we came to Florida to make the distinction, I became Little Zed. "Little Zed, tell Big Zed to come here." I'm got him by at least 5 inches and 70 pounds but by Tuesday, I'll be Little Zed. When I got here my aunt was with my parents at baggage claim to get me. The first thing she said is "Well look at Little Zed!" Beautiful.

My mother is priceless. Showing me pictures of relatives and shit. She's extremely "fat-a-phobic". She fucks with her own kids the worse. She made my ex-wife cry on so many occasions it's ridiculous. "Oooh chile. You done blew up!" She was rainin' down on my cousins tonight. If your chunky ass walks by her, she'll grab your midsection and start jiggling. I'll have a long, jiggly week.

I'll keep y'all cats posted on my private hell.

Cheers,
KZ

Sunspots

What's up kid, the Ab is speaking from the Moon/Thanks for your support/Ay yo, I'll be home soon. -Q Tip "Keep It Rollin'"

Ay yo, what's up? What's the best romantic relationship you've ever had? O.K., stop touching yourself. What's the worst? Can you remember it? The pain it caused, the hurt and then the healing? I'll bet you wouldn't trade the memories of that best relationship for anything in the world. But what about the worst one?

I just saw (yeah, I'm late) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. For those that may not have seen this flick Kate and Jim are dating and shit goes sour. Kate goes to a place that allows her to erase all her memories of their relationship. Jim finds out about it and goes to the same place to erase his memories as well. While in the midst of the process, Jim has a change of heart and decides to fight to keep the memories.

The movie raised a lot of questions for me. If you could erase the memories of a bad relationship, would you? Would you make the same mistake in selecting a partner again? How would you be able to see the signs of trouble if you've erased all memory of it? What about the new things you learned during the relationship? I know, it's just a movie and shit, but it made me think about these things.

I pretty much reached the conclusion that the couple came to in the movie. You should see it if you haven't. It's weird in places, hard to follow in others, but it's beautifully photographed and emotionally moving. Niggas, I hate Hollywood and the zeitgeist it claims to represent. The movie industry puts out predictable trash, but I recommend this movie wholeheartedly.

Think about those questions I raised and tell me what you think.

Head Munkee In Charge,
KZ

Apropos Of Nothing

A.K.A. The Most Generic Post I’ve Ever Written

I woke up to 8 inches this morning. No, I wasn’t looking down in the shower, I was looking out the window. It was snow. Fucking lake effect snow. And it covered my car.

Niggas named “Andre” have stolen or will steal something in their lifetimes. And they cheat on their women. They really think they have a sweet ass name.

The cat that invented condoms had a lot a free time on his hands.

I’m sick of black folks naming their kids after lands they have no connection to whatsoever. Yeah, I’m talking to China’s mom and Asia’s mom.

I once denigrated an ex-girlfriend when she told me she wanted a tattoo. I thought she was trying to tell me something. This was back in 1990 when only porn stars and hookers had tattoos.

I am an utterly unrepentant “ass man”. Breast size is completely unimportant to me. I’m sure that’s surprising to anyone who’s ever read my blog. I don’t covet big titties, but I’ll take ‘em.

My ex-girlfriend’s mother was the first person I ever took a gun from. It was the first time I ever touched a gun and it was just last year. “Stop being so scary!”

I’m flying to Tampa on Saturday to visit my parents for Thanksgiving. I hate the State of Florida. It’s a vapid, cultural wasteland. I think it’s the palm trees. (Sorry, California.)

My parents are from Tampa, born and raised. All my siblings were born there, too. I'm the only born and raised Detroiter. When I tell people my parents are from the south, people ask from where. I say Florida and people laugh. “That’s not really the south.” Sheeeiiittttt! Listen to them niggas talk. Ask about Jim Crow. It’s as southern as you’ll get.

O.K. Butterfly, tell me this: How come a great deal of British speakers so liberally use adverbs? “That’s really quite interesting.” Instead of “That’s interesting.” It’s inefficient! Cut down the verbiage, man.

I absolutely hate lesbian porn scenes.

I saw this woman the other day wearing a belt buckle that read “Cretia”. Then she got in a car, and the license plate read “CRETIA”. Why so proud, Cretia?

Twins are fucking creepy. There, I said it. Sorry Twin, Ms KeKe, and Chubby Chocolate! Byron and Brittani (my nephew and niece), too

I once beat a man to death with a lead pipe.

Just seeing if you’re still reading this shit.

Before I had a college degree it had a level of mystique. I didn’t grow up around a lot of “degreed” individuals. Now it’s just a bill I pay every month.

It won’t stop snowing here.

How am I going to survive Thanksgiving this year and I don’t eat meat? This will be some hard shit.

This year between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m going to fast. All liquid. Only broths and beverages. It’s going to suck being around me.

I’m going to invent a complimentary product to use with the “Blackberry” called the “Sweetjuice”.

You know, South Carolina, Georgia, et al, y’all lost that war. Enough with the fucking flag, man.

Why are so many grown men video game addicts? I hate them shits. Get a real addiction like promiscuity or heroin.