Twitterin’ (heeey) sing-le
Oooh, In a 1-0 kind of world
I’m glad I’ve got Twit-ter!
Confession: My Twitter feed is fairly one-note. There’s a spectrum certainly, but even that spectrum falls under the category of “Stuff I’ll tolerate reading 140-characters at a time.” Thus, I don’t have too many people who are, in my opinion, batshit crazy and perpetually insufferable. I once referred to Twitter as the college dining hall for grown-ups and that still applies. The people whom I follow are people who I would sit at a table and shoot the shit with. Read the rest of this entry »
As you may or may not be aware, a new decade will begin on Friday. Since lists are what people do at the end of things because paragraphs with common threads are just entirely too difficult to cobble together, I’ve followed suit with a random hodge-podge of observations, thoughts and things learned over the course of ten years.
2000: We were league champions after going on an improbably post-season run. Knocked off Wheeler, 53-51. In my career, we only beat Wheeler once. Lesson: Only one game counts.
2001: 9/11. Vagina. Lesson: You can learn all things from war and genitals.
2002: High school graduation.Robert Horry hit that shot against the Kings. on my graduation day. Lesson: Robert Horry is the Butterfly Effect.
2003: Yale. The Michelle. Being an idiot regarding several things, mostly The Michelle-related. Lesson: Flattery is the key to infidelity.
2004: The College Dropout (album and real life). Lesson: Being a nightclub bouncer is infinitely more interesting than folding pants at the Gap.
2005: Yale, again. The Justice League. Argentina with The Intercontinental Champ. Lesson: You can always go home again, but it might not be how you left it.
2006: The best and worst day of college happened on the same day. Iberia. Lesson: Sometimes, you have to make trades, especially when you don’t have a choice. Also, sometimes friendship is no friend at all.
2007: Yale graduation. Lesson: Getting in is easier than finishing.
2008: The Spirit Warrior’s Dream. The Feath. The Election. Lesson: It’s usually the one you never saw coming.
2009: Freezing at the Inauguration. Brougham gets married. The Feath begins work on The Franchise. Lesson: It’s about grown man time…
INT. – NIGHT
Jon and The Feath are sitting in bed. A heated discussion over positive thinking is in progress. Jon shrugs off such things in a fit of melancholy. The Feath has heard enough.
THE FEATH: I can’t! Jon…you could be great at so many things. I just…sometimes, I wanna punch you in the face, knock you on your butt and say “Hurts don’t it?” then pick you up and dust you off and go on with our life.*
JON considers this and thinks about a saucy retort. Then actually listens. Then laughs hysterically. The saucy dame had something of a point.
FADE TO BLACK
*”Hurts don’t it?” is from the Kurt Russell tour de force Tombstone, a favorite quoted multiple times a week since we’ve met.
So, I’ve recently decided a movie everyone that has ever cheated/ considered being a femme or homme infidel (word to my Parisian duns) needs to see is Unfaithful. This movie displays the complexities of the human romantic condition; its adventure, its dangers, its tragedies, as well as the kind of sex scenes people want to see on celluloid, unlike that pounding witnessed in Monster’s Ball. Yes, said pounding was realistic, but just about no one wanted to see that shit.
At any rate, every time I watch it, it reaffirms my personal ethic with regard to shtooping people with husbands. Now, I’ve been known to make a cuckold of a few boyfriends in my day, but husbands are a completely different story. Boyfriends might go crazy if they find out your name is written on their kitty’s cat. Boyfriends might try to get into a dust-up with you in the streets for 30-35 seconds, hate you for a few months to a year, then it’s pretty much over. Unless you’re messing with Ronald Isley’s girl, in which case you’ll find yourself broke-legged in the middle of the desert, there is an above average chance that you’ll survive the encounter. Shit, you could maybe be buddy’s with the guy in a half decade.
Husbands? Stop playing. The only “might” in question is, “I might hit him with the pick axe rather than the circular saw.” These dudes are married to these women. Got rings and everything. They might even have a little crumb snatcher running around, putting report cards on the refridgerator. A husband will kill or disfigure you for three reasons:
1) You made him look like a fool. You got waist deep in his grasslands, grasslands he assumed he had the right of way on for the rest of his life.
2) You made his wedding day an utter waste of money. Engraved invitations ain’t no joke.
3) In reality, he wants to kill his wife, but since she brings too much to the table (love of his life/ mother of his children combo), he’s gonna take it out on the guy who bought nothing to the table. In fact, you took something off his table.
Now, I can’t really speak for women, but I have to assume that the same rules apply. If you’re dating, I think it’s essentially the same except for the fact that a woman will hate that other women for the rest of her life. I’m talking the same virulent hatred, with absolutely no decrease in intensity, from day 1 to 13765. No exceptions. Again, marriage is a different ballgame. In fact, you probably shouldn’t marry a woman that wouldn’t cut a bitch if you two-timed her.
Granted, I definitely think women are more level-headed in these situations (I mean how many “I showed up at her house and let her know that he’s my man without ripping her eye out” songs have we heard?) and the possibility of not getting mollywhooped is better than if it was two guys (consider the ‘Coming To Break You Off’ video. To be honest, I’m not sure that guy was married to the girl. If he wasn’t, then he’s falling into that marginal “might snap” category. If he was, he’s exactly proving my point), but really, I don’t think you wanna find out that the person whose home you are wrecking is a Superthug (what what what what what wh-what).
On top of the fact that you might have a car hit you while getting coffee (from your cupboard), the whole thing invariably ends badly because you either:
A) Get left for the person he/she should be banging in the first place or…
B) You have somebody who wants to be with you/ you want to be with (you think) who has a small issue of a spouse to contend with not to mention the fact that this person that wants to be with you is an infidel. And as Elgin Lumpkin said, “If you cheated on him, you’d do it to me.”
Truly, point B applies in all relationship cases, but is indeed worthy of mention when considering the matter of nuptuals. Peace to Richard Gere.
Penultimate Thought: I think it’s unfair that Black women got ‘Something New’ and we got ‘Jungle Fever.’
Final Thought: I miss my Eudora.