So I had a revelation today. I discovered a problem of mine. I keep waiting on the world to change. I took a look back at a few of my personal relationships over the past couple of years. I realized that I was always waiting for the other person to change. Whether it be changing an opinion, a viewpoint, their personality, whatever.

I always feel like I'm evolving. I'm always willing to take that one step forward. Because of that, it seems, that I assume everyone else is willing, too. What I discovered is that just because I'm ready doesn't meant that they are, no matter how much I want it. No matter how much I want them to be.

Case in point: With Jade, I kept waiting on her to be a better person. I had faith. I expected her to be. She even tried. But she wasn't ready. She wasn't able to let go of herself long enough to realize that she wasn't the center of the universe. I kept waiting on her to change and while I was waiting, she ruined me. It was my own fault that I let her do that to me. I couldn't see her for what she was, only what I expected her to be.

Next case in point: I recently asked someone out who works at the same company as I do. I won't mention her name here. She turned me down. Though I wasn't mad, I was kind of puzzled as to why she said no. She stated as one of her reasons that she wasn't willing to breach "the friend boundary" especially with someone she works with. I suppose I understand that. Her friendship is very important to me. I remember stating in public many times, "Don't dip your pen in the company ink." Logically, I should have heeded my own advice, but I couldn't help the way I felt.

I started to analyze her response a little. I kept thinking to myself in stark contrast to my own advice, "We can make it work. It doesn't have to be awkward if we don't let it." Did you notice the pronoun in there, we? I discovered playing back in my head that her response was about her. She wasn't willing to cross the friend boundary. She was uncomfortable dating someone at work. She wasn't willing to put our friendship in jeopardy.

Just because I was willing to cross those lines for the prospect of something more than friendship, something better, why should I expect that she would? I think it's probably a little arrogant of me to expect that. If she was willing, that's great. If she wasn't, that's her decision, not my expectation. She has her own set of rules that she lives her life by. I shouldn't impose myself upon that.

Final case in point: Sydd. I wouldn't talk to Sydd for years because when I was 21 and he was 21, I was semi-successful. I had my life together (or at least was on the track). I had a good job and was living on my own, making a little bit of coin. I expected he should be doing the same. When I discovered that not only he wasn't, but he was still continuing in the same patterns that had gotten him into deep shit as a teenager, I dropped him. We had a knock-down, drag-out on the phone, and I didn't speak to him again for years. I expected him to do better because I was doing better.

Sydd was the same as he ever was. I had expected so much better. He just wasn't ready to do better at that point. Why did I expect so much? Maybe I always thought, "Well, if I can do it, why can't you?" I can't hold other people to my own standards. Everybody's different and everybody's got their own path. Thankfully, we're starting to get back in touch with one another in recent days. He's doing better. I'm doing better. I feel we'll be better friends now.



I don't know. It's just a surprising pattern I've discovered in my personal relationships. I keep expecting the world to change and what I've realized is that people are who they are. It's not my job to change them. And it shouldn't be my expectation that they will. In fact, I know now, that some people ain't never gonna change. It's not incumbent upon me to expect anything from anyone.

Maybe this sounds cynical. It's really not. It's actually a more positive outlook. I can still hope for people. I can still believe good things about people. It's just not my place to impose or expect anything.

Labels: Life, Philosophizing

So I was buying some new clothes last night at the Casual Male XL. I'm just looking around. I usually know what I want.

In walk these three South Philly Guidos. Three loud, fat, sloppy-looking bastards. They come blustering in the door like, "Yo, I heard you gots dem underwears for us!" They were loud, rude, ignorant, and obnoxious. They wandered around the store like they had never been in a Big & Tall store, much less a Men's Store before. I could smell the cheesesteaks seeping through their pores.

They would drop little gems, like, "Yeah, we needs to get summadem thermal underwears. We're freezing our asses off. I'm gonna put summa dese on right now. I need some underwears on." and "Do yous gots summadem diuretic socks?"
"Look at these ties they made for us!"

They kept trying to finagle coupons and discounts out of the clerk.
"They mailed me a coupon, so it should be in the system"
    "Sir, you have to bring in the coupon so I can honor it. I can't do anything if you don't bring it in."
"Well, it should be 75% off. The sign out front says You gots 75% off on things."
    "Yes sir, the things marked as 75% off have tickets stating so."

So I'm politely waiting for these guys to leave so I can make my purchases. The entire time I'm laughing my ass off quietly at how ignorant these guys are.

Anyway, Once these guys leave, I make my way to the register. As I'm ringing out, I start flirting with the clerk that was working. You know, my little charming act. You know me, smooth as hell. ;-)
"Will there be anything else today, sir?"
    "Actually, I was looking at these patent leather loafers over here. I was wondering if you had them in a size 11?"
"Oh, you like these? These are nice. Let me look in the back for you."
...
"Well, I'm afraid I don't, but I do have these other loafers in an 11."
    "Well, I really liked these patent leather ones."
"Oh, you like the patent leather, huh? Yeah I like the shiny, too."
    "Yeah, well, you know. I got to keep it shinin'"

Oh, she was eating it up.

"Yeah, you have good taste."
    "Well, I know what I like."
"I can tell by your purchases, you know how to dress. And you're not afraid of a little splash of color."
    "Yeah, I can put a little something together."
"Ooh, and look at these pants and this belt. You really know what's good."
    "Yeah, I've been looking for a grommet belt for a while. You know what would really be fly, is if you guys had a pyramid studded belt."
"Well, let me know what you'd like, and I'll tell my manager. We'll see what we can do about getting that in for you."

We also spent a little time laughing at those Guidos who just left.

"Did you see how they were trying to get over on me?."
    "Yeah, I saw that."
"I can't do anything about the prices marked."
    "I know, they just can't read."
"Let me see if I can hook you up with a couple of 'specials'."
    "Bet."
...
    "So what's your name?"
"Oh, my name's ******"
    "It was good to meet you."
"Oh, I hope you come back soon. I'll be here all week. Let me carry those bags for you."

Now she could have just let me pay full price for my purchases, seeing as she was a little aggravated it how those Guidos were trying to squeeze out nonexistent discounts for ultimately $50 worth of underwear. But because I was flirting with her, engaging her like a person not a clerk, she hooked me up with five $50 shirts for $19.99 each. That's a hookup.

So what did we learn from this?

A little flirting, a little nicety goes a long way. People in the retail and service industries are typically treated like tools; even nuisances. They are ignored or mistreated by the impatient masses. They appreciate it so much. I had no interest in this girl. And I certainly wasn't trying to pick someone up in the Casual Male XL. But look at how the Guidos treated her. Rude, crass, ignorant. She just wanted to get them out of the store as fast as she could. Now me, a little flirting and she was hooking me up left and right, even carried my bags out the store. Look at the mileage I got from it. That certainly wasn't my intent, either. I was simply being myself, who is a nice engaging guy to talk to.

The next time you're in a restaurant, or in a retail store, show some kindness. Talk to the person who's taking care of you. See what a difference treating someone like a person makes. They will bend over backwards to make you satisfied. My mother is the exact same way. She makes friends everywhere she goes out of the wait staff or salespeople. Because of that, they remember her everywhere she goes and they go out of their way to ensure she's taken care of.







DISCLAIMER:
I make no aspersions on the Italian people as a whole. Italians are a rich beautiful people with a deep cultural heritage.
I do not think of all Italians in the way described in this post, nor do I casually use the term 'Guido'.
In fact, some of my favorite people are Italian. Gina, you know I love ya :)
The slobs in this particular case were truly deserving of the term, 'Guido'.
Please don't hold that against me, but rather against those three guys that could embarrass an entire race of people.
    - Read, the Management

Labels: Clothes, Life, Society

Y'all aint even heard from my ass in the 08.

I been busy as a sumummabitch through the New Year. Working on the new release of YellowBook.com, but I promise I've got posts in the queue, ready to back date.

So stay tuned, campers. There's a whole bunch coming.

Labels: Blogging, Life, Website, Work

Lifetime TV is launching a new show this season called How To Look Good Naked. A new type of makeover show in the vein of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, hosted by Carson Kressley.

I love the concept of this show. It teaches full-sized women to love their bodies. That they shouldn't have to resort to extreme dieting or cosmetic surgery, trying to look like magazine models. Self-image is one of the biggest psychological issues among full-sized women. No matter how beautiful these women are, they never see themselves as such. As long as they see that they are not a size zero, they won't believe that they are beautiful. It's a crying shame.

Did you know that four out of five American women today say they are are dissatisfied with their bodies?

I hate that fashion industry-driven projection that women should look like toothpicks and Barbie dolls. In fact I hate a bony bitch. Women are subjected to this barrage of imagery that tells them that their bodies aren't good enough. I have news for you, ladies. Even those sacks of anorexia aren't as thin as they appear. Repeat the following words after me, "Airbrush, Photoshop, CGI, Digital Enhancement, Eating Disorder"

Something else I saw to this effect was the release of a photography book by Leonard Nimoy (yes, Mr. Spock) called "The Full Body Project" in which he used very Rubenesque full-figured nude models. The book can be viewed as almost an indictment of Hollywood and the glamour machine that spoon feeds the message that women should be a size zero. I'm very proud of him for doing such bold work.



I'm not a chubby-chaser or anything, but I do appreciate a full-figured woman. I like a woman with a little meat on her bones. Nothing wrong with that. More than that, I like a woman that's got a little size, but is confident with her shit. There's nothing more sexy than confidence. There's nothing less sexy to me than insecurity. I know that's a backwards-ass statement coming from my fat ass, who's very insecure about my weight.

On the other hand, though I'd love nothing more than to drop like a hundy, I also have self-image expectations set in reality. I work with what I've got. Sometimes I don't always dress the best for my body, but I do clean up good. especially lately. I make the sexy work for me.

There's nothing wrong with thinking you're sexy. If you think it, you will project it. If you believe that you are, then you are.


Bottom line, be proud of what you have. If you could lose a few pounds, well ok. Couldn't we all? Just don't let Cosmo tell you what your body should look like.



'How To Look Good Naked' Becomes Most-Watched Reality Series Premiere in Lifetime...
How To Look Good Naked by Leonard Nimoy
The Full Body Project by Leonard Nimoy

Labels: Fitness, Life, Pop Culture, Society, TV

Ecch! I've been eating like shit the past week. I've had so much crap.

Usually I eat like this very unconsciously when I'm stressed. This past week was a combination of stress and circumstance. So far I've had the following:

1. An entire Franzone's pizza
2. Half a Franzone's pizza
3. Buffalo Chicken Fajitas at Chili's
4. A Bleu Cheeseburger from Bennigan's
5. Catered pasta from Little Sicily
6. Catered pizza AND stromboli from Amedeo's
7. A giant Cheese steak omelet skillet at O'Grady's
8. A 12" Chicken Parm. sandwich and 2 cheeseburgers from TD Alfredo's
9. To top it all off I had like 4 Entenmann's donuts in the span of a couple of hours.

Now some of these were unavoidable. Catered lunches at mandatory meetings. The group I go to lunch with decided they wanted to go to certain places this week.

The rest was me stress eating. Truthfully I cant even identify what the stressor is. I'm sure you can't tell it to look at me, but I don't usually eat like this. There's something subconsciously bothering me, but I don't quite know what it is. The conscious stressors I have aren't enough to make me eat like this.

What the deal?
This week I'll be eating salads for dinner. Seriously. No bullshit.

Labels: Food, Life, Work

I should get shirts made.

They would read:

I AM NOT HER HUSBAND!!!


See, every Saturday, my mother and I go out for breakfast. It's kind of our weekly tradition. Only because she looks so young, people always seem to mistake us for husband and wife. People are astonished when we tell them that we are mother and son. It's also kind of unexpeted. Who takes their mother out for breakfast every week?

It's just funny, that's all. Since I've been an adult it's always been that way. It's either a huge compliment to how young she looks or it's ... OK let's not go there.

Labels: Family, Food, Life, Rants

I had a revelation today.

I don't actually hate Jade.

As I was driving to Coyote Crossing in Conshohocken for lunch last Friday, I found myself flipping the finger down Elm/Hector street in the general direction of 7th Heaven.

I was thinking about the hate that I've been harboring all this time over Jade. Thinking about how it's poisoned my soul. The hate and anger and frustration has changed me. I've turned into a different person.

Though I haven't become completely bitter, it has changed my perspective on quite a few things. It's actually become a positive influence on my life. Even though I'm still cleaning up the mess left behind in her wake, I can't let her turn me to the dark side. I can't let her change me.

I came to the conclusion that I don't need to waste any more time hating her. It's not healthy. I was indulging my own craziness. Yes, I hate what she did to me. Yes, It breaks my heart every time I think how much of a better life she would have if only she were a better person. It's been nearly a year now and I'm still thinking about her.

The hate held power over me. I don't let any one thing hold power over me like that. Why should I continue to hold on to something so negative? As someone very wise once told me, "If it ain't good for you, and it ain't good to you, there's no reason to continue doing it." The funny thing was that it was me perpetuating the hate. She stopped calling in August.

So why was I still holding on? Maybe it was some vain hope that she might change. If not for herself, then for her children. I would like to know that she's all right. More importantly, I would like to know that her daughter is all right. It breaks my heart every time I see a child with a joy of life like she had. I probably would have been the best father figure that she'll ever have.


But it's over now. I'm over her. She doesn't hold any more power whatsoever over me.

Labels: Dating, Hot Bitches, Life

Alright I know I'm late as hell posting this, but deal with it.

I hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving. I drove down with my mom to the city to my uncle Cranny's house for dinner.

Cranny's was a blast. Just about everyone was there. Mom brought Hors D'oeuvres and her famous pineapple upside down cake. I of course, brought my slammin' "Smack Yo Momma" Macaroni & Cheese. It was such a relief for both of us to not have to cook this year.

We all had a great time. We watched tapes of old music videos from the 90's all day. We ate and drank and ate some more. Philosophized and talked shit. You know how we get down.

Wayne and Oronde brought my little 9-month old baby cousin, Micaiah. Everyone fell in love with her. Especially Cranny. She's so cute.

I love my family. I love the sense that I have a family. A lot of people are not so fortunate. Yes, my family is a big ole' ball of crazy, but I love them just the same. My Uncle Cranny is so giving. He would give you the shirt off his back and be happy to do it. In fact, he gave my mother a set of $100 Bose earphones for no reason at all. These aren't just some old dollar store ear buds, these are Bose. You know, Cranny doesn't make a whole lot of money, and for him to give a gift like that is no small thing. That's love, y'all.

On the way back home, Mom and I had a relaxing drive back up to the 'burbs, listening to Gershwin the entire way up. Who does that?

This is how Thanksgiving is supposed to be, y'all. Blessed Be.
Happy Thanksgiving

Labels: Family, Food, Holidays, Life

I saw the most interesting thing on my way home tonight. I was driving through town because of some roadblock on the back roads. I passed one of the funeral homes in town and there must have been a viewing. There was a line of mourners down the street and around the block.

Down the street and around the block!

What I found amazing was that there were that many people lined up in the cold and rain to mourn the loss of one individual. Truly a testament to how many lives that person has touched. I sincerely hope that when I pass there are that many people to see me.

I wish that for myself. But I don't want people to mourn. Though at times my life has had it's share of misery, I've led a good life. I want people to celebrate my life, not mourn my death. I also want a New Orleans style jazz funeral procession.

Labels: Life

Normal is just ... boring.

Labels: Life, Philosophizing

I DVR'ed an episode of Manswers on Spike the other night. It came on at midnight and I was too tired to stay up and watch it. It had one segment that kind of piqued my interest. How Do You Take a Stripper Home?.

Hmmm. I wonder what that's like? I wonder if they had any advice that paralleled my own experience with strippers.

Well, I watched it last night and here is the outcome. Let's compare it to real life.

1. Go on the slow nights. Your goal is to become a regular.

   Yeah. I'll buy into that one. On a busy night, you're just another face in the crowd. On a slow night, you're more likely to get noticed. Although you run the risk of appearing like (and becoming) that lonely perv that's in the club every night, a.k.a. a stalker.

2. The first place you don't sit is the stage. Post up at the bar like it's a regular bar. The one way you're gonna get a stripper's attention is by really not giving her a ton of attention.

   I don't agree with this one. In a lot of local joints the stage is the bar so you can't avoid it. In the bigger places, only the bartender will notice you at the bar. Although the reasoning behind this one is more sound than the actual method. Giving a stripper ALL your attention is deadly. They will have you hooked. You will become addicted and they will run you dry. Once she has you hooked, she will know it and all you become to her is a money source. Once that happens, Game over. Now there is something to be said about playing hard to get. Feigning interest. Don't overdo it. Strippers can smell bullshit like a fart in a car.

3. Bring a chick with you. Any time a girl is around another girl, there's always a little bit of competition.

   I don't know about this one. Yes, it's true about the competition, but that's all women. First, where are you going to find a straight chick who will go to a strip club with you? Second, if you do find one, why aren't you banging her? Third, in my experience a stripper is more exited at the prospect of giving another chick a lapdance than you. They see horny guys all day. This move will not work to your advantage.

4. Don't tip the strippers. Strippers are in it for one thing: money. The moment that money changes hands, you're a source of income. You'll never be seen as anything else.

   That's partially true. Don't show your roll. Break out a few singles at a time. If a stripper sees that your money is long, then it's all said and done. Not tipping a stripper can lead to venomous consequences. In a big place like Delilah's, where a stripper can clear hundreds a night, they won't miss your couple dollars. In a dive joint, the strippers there are working hard for the money, so every dollar counts. Snubbing a stripper in these places will actually get you the opposite result. Bring enough money to make sure every stripper that comes around for a tip get some money. It's just respectful. If there's one that actually interests you, make it a point to have her come over to you to get a little something extra. She'll then start to recognize you and begin to engage you. Yes, it's to get more money from you, but it gets your foot in the door. This is your opportunity to start chatting her up.

5. Throw a party. Girls love to party, and these girls love to party.

   Yes, they do. All of them love to get lit. This is not a guarantee of anything, though. Don't think you're like the guy in the clip and just say, "Oh, I'm having a party," and walk out the door with them. Strippers are not likely to leave the club with you. If you're going to party with strippers, make an announcement. Set a date. Make an event out of it. Invite a few of them for a little fun. Don't be the only one there. You're more likely to end up with a stripper if you see her outside the club, than in. So the objective here is to get them to willingly interact with you outside the club. So a party is a good way to do it. Your friends will have fun, they will have fun, and most importantly, you will have fun.

Anyway, it doesn't seem like Spike has the ultimate answer to picking up strippers. It seems no one does. Ultimately, strippers are people, too. They have needs and wants just like the rest of us ... only adjusted. Contrary to what one might think, strippers are usually very sexually repressed. Either from some sexual trauma, or the fact that they grind in guys' laps all day. The likelihood is that they won't go home with you for a one night stand, though it does happen. The more you can see them outside the club, the more likely they are to see you as someone they might continue to see outside the club. My couple of tips should help to keep your game strong and continue to keep your money long.

Just so I can say I warned you, just be aware, you are taking a stripper home (or attempting, anyway). If you're the jealous type, this is not an adventure for you. You have to deal with strippers giving sexual attention to another guy. Also nearly every last one of them is crazy in some way (or many ways).

Other links:

• SpikeTV: How Do You Take a Stripper Home?
• wikiHow: How to Date a Stripper

Labels: Bars, Comedy, Hot Bitches, Life, Night life, Strip clubs, TV

Had a lot of fun last night at Lucky Strike in Philadelphia.

YellowBook had a Internet Team outing last night. Every once in a while they like to get out of the office. Of course this happens to coincide with a release day, so we all could use the stress release.

Funny story about release day. My team and I went out to lunch yesterday. Jeff gets a call on his cell phone while we're in the restaurant. He doesn't recognize the number and assumes it's an unimportant call, so he ignores it. Shortly after, I get a call on my cell and I assume it's a recruiter. It so happens that it's the office desperately trying to get a hold of us. Something went wrong with the release. We got back to the office after lunch and walked into a total surprise melee. All this the day after Jeff made a big stink about everybody having our cellphone numbers. D'oh!

Anyway...

Busy day at work. Everyone was struggling to get out of the office in time to get down to Center City. Of course, I was like the last one because I had to make a playlist for on the way down. Something with some speed and aggression. If I'm going to be driving down the Schuylkill with the rest of the rush hour dumbasses, I'm going to need to channel my homicidal urges.

So I'm headed down 76 and it's pretty slow, as would be expected. Between Belmont and City it gets really slow. A goddamn U-Haul truck stalls out right in front of me in the left lane. Razzafrazzin brickafrikkin rat bastard summumabitch! After that silly shit, I get around him and make my way into the city. So now I get off the Vine St. Expressway at 15th street and I have the incessant gridlock to look forward to. People wonder why I don't want to work in the city.

Spending time looking for a place to park downtown is like masturbating with a cheese grater. It may be exciting and different for a minute, but ultimately painful. I didn't want to park in a garage. The prices are nuts. Although finding a spot on the street is almost futile. After taking a few circuits around City Hall, I made my way over to Chestnut Street in the hopes of finding a spot. Nevermind the fire truck right outside of Lucky Strike that traffic couldn't get around, what about the SEPTA bus stuck behind me, blocking the entire intersection at 13th and Chestnut? Once I got around the fire truck, I found a spot only a couple of blocks from the place. OK, so it was a loading zone, but you know what? The cost of a ticket would probably be about the same as parking in a garage, so fuck it.

I made my way into Lucky Strike, and it was kind of a cool joint. Multiple floors of bars/restaurants/bowling alleys. Swank. I saw that there was a private event on the second floor. That must be us. So I made my way up. Nope. Evidently it was an event for PhIMA. What the hell is PhIMA? I stuck my head in just to make sure. Guess who's there? Oh, shit. It's Gina. :) Before I can say boo, she swept me in and was showing me around. Guess who else is there? It's Desirea. :) They assumed I was there for PhIMA. I didn't even know what that was. It just so happened that not only were Des & Gina members, but so was Jeff's wife, Tara. Gina & Des introduced me. I told her that when Jeff comes home at night and goes, "That son of a ..." , that's me! (Just kidding) I hung around for a few minutes, but I really wasn't supposed to be there, so I politely excused myself and went and found my people.

My group was up on the third floor. Most everybody was there. Andy, James, Ilmer, Alex & Anton, Jeff, and Michelle were already there. Dessi and Tina showed up a little later than me. Tina encountered that same stalled out truck on 76. She must have been not too far behind me. So we're all chatting (and drinking). Having a good time. Andy ordered this moderately interesting-looking blue drink called a Lucky Strike. It looked like a big blue martini. You know me, I stuck to Yeunglings all night.

After a while we got food. The cuisine at Lucky Strike is kind of interesting. Pretty much what you'd find at like a Chili's or an Applebee's or something like that. But with a couple of twists. They serve breakfast there along with their dinner menu. Not usually two things you'd find together outside of a diner. They even have a breakfast burger, which is a burger topped with a fried egg. That's different.

So we're eating, drinking, chatting, having a good ole' time. We're all done eating and now let the bowling begin! We got two lanes for 10 people. Easy enough, right? God we had so much fun. And evidently a couple of us can actually bowl. James did really well. Alex was crushing pins. I'm glad he was on my team. It was only like his fifth time bowling ever. Ilmer and Dessi were beginners. We all were such cheerleaders for them.

As for myself, I stunk out loud. You know me. All form and no follow through. I use my classic four step drop. Of course I was only using a 14 pound ball, so I was throwing fastballs with zero control. Truly I needed a heavier ball. Once I slowed down my release, I regained some of that control. They actually had speedometers on the lanes and by far, I threw the fastest balls.

That's the cool thing about bowling. You can completely suck and still have fun.

Speaking of suck...Anton. Anton set a bad precedent by rolling a 9 in the first frame. From there, it was all downhill. Gutter, Gutter, Gutter, Gutter... Gutter. Hahah! The first game, he bowled a whopping 29, only to be beat out by quiet little Dessi (a first timer) in the 10th frame. Hehe. I told him the second game was the dignity game. I think his patented stumble-and-chuck method might have been holding him back.

About 9:00, the girls were done with their PhIMA event and came upstairs to join us in the lounge. I would have liked to have seen them bowl a few frames, but they just kind of hung out gabbing the rest of the night. I tore my self away from the lanes for a bit a couple of times and hung out with them until it was my turn again. I didn't want to let them feel neglected. :)

We wrapped up at about 11. We all kind of stumbled back to where we parked, seemingly all over the city. ;) James suggested the next outing be at Fogo de Chão, a Brazilian steakhouse across the street. I got back to my truck and sure enough, there was a ticket. Thirty bucks for parking in a loading zone. But you know what? It's still more preferable to parking in a garage, for about the same price.


So Lucky Strike was a great night. God that was fun. What did we learn?

1. Parking in Center City is like masturbating with a cheese grater
2. Yeungling is bowling fuel
3. PhIMA is the Philadelhpia Interactive Marketing Association
4. I met Jeff's wife, so I guess I learned something
5. I learned that Anton can't bowl worth squat, hehe
6. I learned that Tina and Michelle are a lot of fun. Put those two together and they're trouble. That's OK. I like trouble.
7. Ultimately, I learned that I really like the people I work with directly. They're a group of people that really like to have fun. We work hard and we play hard. Nobody's stuck up or a stick in the mud. That's important to me. These really are my kind of people.

Labels: Bars, Food, Life, Night life, Work

As you may notice, it is now 4:40 AM and I'm on my computer blogging. I woke up at 4 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. As I tried to get back to sleep, I realized I couldn't for three reasons.

I couldn't lay on my side because of how hungry I was.
I couldn't lay on my side because of how horny I was.
I couldn't turn off my mind.

That's when I had a revelation albeit a minor one.

Typically, I sleep with the TV on. It's almost like a nightlight/alarm clock. I watch TV until I fall asleep. I don't even bother turning it off. I just watch whatever I'm watching until I fade away.

I'm so attached to it that I rarely know what it's like to sleep without it. When Jade and I would sleep together, we would sleep with the TV on. She was the same way.

I decided to try an experiment last night. I was done what I was doing for the night, turned off all the downstairs lights and headed up to bed. I got into the bedroom and hadn't turned on the lights at all. Completely dark. The realization was that I couldn't find my remote control in the sheets. After groping around in the dark, I didn't even turn the TV on. I thought it would be a welcome and calming change to sleep without my dependency. My electric bill will thank me.

Here's what I've discovered. I use the TV as a mental distraction. Without it, I can't shut my mind off. As someone who spends a great deal of time in my own head, I have a near constant inner monologue. With nothing drowning it out, the volume gets amplified. I can't shut my mind up.

I know that sounds crazy... and it probably is. I can't tune out the voice in my head. Thank god it's only one voice.

I find myself pondering philosophy, giving life lessons, writing blog entries, having fantasies, thinking about the next day, dreaming up new code-based solutions, website designs, etc. The only thing that stops this deluge of thought during the day is that it's constantly interrupted by speaking, or working.

I think I woke up, fully awake at 4 AM because my own mind had no one to listen to it. I think this is what it must be like to be truly insane. I think crazy people just don't know how to suppress or absorb the inner monologue. It just becomes completely overwhelming. Fortunately, I have been living with my own inner monologue for a very long time.

Labels: Insomnia, Life, Philosophizing

The Boondocks is back on Adult Swim and is as good as ever.

My man Huey is still the young revolutionary. Striving to destroy the system from within. Huey is everything I was when I was 16. Hyperintelligent with an afro and generally disenchanted with everything around him.
Granddad is still an old coot. Who reminds me very much of my own father.
Riley is still the flaming ghetto id.

I always thought The Boondocks was the best shit for black people on television. It crosses so many lines without being totally damaging to the perception of black folks in America. Instead, it highlights our flaws and shows them for just what they are...flaws. Just like everyone else has. Rather than glorifying our flaws like most other shuckin' and jivin'-ass black television shows today, Boondocks takes a rye look at them and states the need for change, or at least change of perception.

You know, the fact that they will drop the "N-Bomb" at least a dozen times per episode doesn't even bother me. It's so revolutionary. It's just what the industry needs. Also the fact that it makes white people cringe because they know that only we could get away with it, makes me smile.

Thank you Aaron McGruder

Webster defines the "nigga moment" as a moment when ignorance overwhelms the mind of an otherwise logical Negro male. Causing him to act in an illogical, self-destructive manner... i.e. like a nigga.
If Nigga Moments had their own category, Nigga Moments would be the third leading killer of black men behind pork chops and F.E.M.A. It's a fact.

The following is the definitive list of the top ten killers of black men, according to the Bob Mayo Clinic:

1. F.E.M.A.
2. Pork chops
3. Nigga Moments
4. HIV/AIDS
5. L.A.P.D.
6. N.Y.P.D.
7. The 'Itis
8. Bitches
9. Malt Liquor
10. White People

Oddly enough, Tonight's episode of The Boondocks made a scary parallel to my life.

A Pimp Named Slickback states the following:

"Your friends have reason to believe that you are suffering from Chronic Bitch Dependency. Bitch dependency is no laughing matter. Addiction to a bitch can fuck with your friends, your health, and scary enough, even your money. It's a disease, Tom."

"Did you know that scientists believe that some people are born with a genetic predisposition to bitch dependency?"

Sound familiar?

Labels: Comedy, Life, Society, TV