My shoo 'sploded...

On my way to see about making some money wit UPS yesterday (aka: hustlin'), and I noticed my foot was feeling cold. Said to myself, "dag, I guess I shoulda worn the rain shoes" (cuz it was wet, not rainin' but wet). Then I realized it was only one foot that was moist.
I turned my foot over to check my shoe and it smiled back at me - the sole was cracked all the way from port to starboard. To make matters more fun, I had to go puddle-trudging around Canarsie for two more hours since the hayride known as the L train took an hour to get me from the Broadway Junction stop to 105th (me missing a stop was included in that, still...).
So I have to go buy some new shoes today. AND the UPS crap turned out to be for naught.

'Scuse me while I go ho.

I have not words to communicate how much I despise Fox News

An exchange between Neil Cavuto and some Token Blond Woman on "Cavuto on Business" during Fox's "The Cost of Freedom Block":

NC: "Who names their son 'Kojo' anyway"

TBW: "Somebody named 'Kofi'"

I find that FAR more offensive than the C. Rice cartoon below.

You just don't know.

You just don't know...

Tag Team started southern hip-hop?

So, I'm watching one of VH-1's little best-of/worst-of lists (their version of reality TV shows - cheap and quick). This particular iteration is "100 greatest one hit wonders".
They get to number 97 and it's Tag Teams classic whoomp there it is (the lack of capitalization is very on purpose). During its heyday, and about 4 years afterward, I would refuse to remain within earshot of this song. I never liked it. I admit to having liked ice, ice baby when I was little (I came to my senses later). I, however, have recognized the utter garbageness of Tag Team’s little moneymaker as soon as it came out (if only more others had as well...).
Now, after a decade, it rings merely innocuous - so I let the channel stay on while I browsed the Internet. During this segment, a requisite Negro woman named Danyel Smith was recruited to give insight into why this song was ever so great. Her first insight was that the great thing about it was that, no matter who you are, when you heard the song you had to dance (or leave swearing as was the case with me). Lastly this genius declared that current down south rappers should recognize Tag Team as one of the founders of southern hip hop!!!

WHAT?!?!

First of damn all, I'm fairly certain the Geto Boys had gotten things underway for southern hip hop a couple of years prior to the release of this little ditty. OutKast, if I'm not mistaken, released a little collection of songs around '92 or so. Plus, I didn't realize that whoomp, such and so forth was hip-hop. I thought it was a party song or that it came under the special category of southeast bass music!? If it counts as hip hop, then 2live Crew spoke for the South since the late 80's (yes, Danyel, Florida is located in the South, though I hope beyond hope that 2live crew does not speak for hip-hop).
Stupid commentary makes me tired. It's my fault for turning on the tv.

BTW: 95 South's version was better. Well, it hit harder anyway. I'm not sure that modifiers with positive connotations can really be applied here...

What's wrong with this picture....

Below is a political cartoon. Please read the whole thing and give your immediate reaction by clicking on Comment.

The Once.... and Only Once Child of Destiny

Michelle has solidified her place as the next former Destiny's chile...

I know there's still two people who haven't seen it, so click here for the evidence.

Notice the look on Kelly's face: she seen this before and is again glad it ain't her....

BTW: With straight hair Beyonce looks like Nicole Richie. Kelly just looks like she'll do whatever she's told...

Roxanne Shante became a doctor??!?!

The below is signature from the Okayplayer.com message boards (billyshakespeare). I've GOT to verify this. If true, why the hell hadn't I heard this (C. Powell commentrary to come later).

“Um when I decided that I no longer, when Roxanne Shante no longer wanted to make records…I signed with Warner Elektra Atlantic…and part of my contract, they put like what they called a bonus clause, was that they would pay for my education because I was so young. So they felt like ’Ohhhh yeah throw it in there, I mean come on, she’s 15. She’s already had a baby. You know she’s probably just gonna go back and get a GED if anything.’ And I recalled that, I remembered, and I said you know what, I’m going to school. And every body was like ‘All Shante, don’t do that right now. You’re at the peak of your career. You shouldn’t leave. You’re really popular…If you leave now people gone forget about you da da da.’ I said, good I want them to forget about me because I’m gonna forget about them. So I left.

So now they said, ‘where you gonna go to school’, I told them and they said ‘okay fine, go.’ Cuz they figured I would do one semester and it would get too hard, and I would eventually leave. And I SOCKED it to em, PhD!! Went all the way to Cornell Medical. And what they started doing is, they started actually sending me letters like ‘Well how long, when is your expected date to stop pursuing your education.’ Because they knew that they could not withdraw the clause

So they figured that I would, you know and I socked it to them. I socked it to them for over $175,000 worth of education.

Who needs a royalty check!!!”

Corparate Amerikkka is trying to kill you. Slowly.

If only they could formulate a chocolate that would solidify around it while it was still hot, it would be the perfect self induced death.

Click here to see it.

New Blog design

You'll notice things look different... I wanted to let people be able to post comments and I need to do some work on my (semi) custom design to allow that.

So, yeah, I'm working on that. In the meantime enjoy this template provided by Blogger. I don't like using someone else's design, so I will probably be switching it often until my design is working.

Lastly, look for a new open blog to which anyone can publish anything they want. It was originally going to be a poetry thing, but I don't want people to feel they can't participate because they "don't write poetry".

Anyway, have fun commenting on all those old messages.

peace

R.I.P

O.D.B

1968-2004

why is it mad genius never gets to last very long....

I hate losing stuff

I'm currently moping over losing one of my SD cards (small memory card about the size of a postage stamp - a GLORIOUS little piece of technology, it is) and how junky my little room as I try to find it. I swear it was right here on the computer desk next to my monitor. I'm confident my roomate’s small ball of chew (aka West Highland terrier) hasn't gotten to it. If he has - well, somebody's going to be moving....

I'm currently toying with the idea of starting a blog that people can post poetry to. I've just got to figure out how people but "reply to" boxes on their sites.... if you know how to do this, feel free to clue me in: cwalkerjr@juno.com.

BTW: I'm an actor. Somebody please cast me. I need attention.

UPDATE -

The SD card was found in my roomates room. It was only indirectly the dog's fault.

AND

I've been cast in my first play in New York. It's only two nights and about 30 minutes, but it's something.

I love De La Soul

Ok, so I only found out that latest De La album was out two days after it was released - a travesty.

I went and got it today - Disc-o-Rama on W. 4th neat 6th ave.... $10.89 for a brand new album. Don't take much thought, now does it.

I love De La Soul

The album is called the Grind Date. The liner is a calendar. It even has a hole punched so you can hang it. De La is the hip-hop G.O.A.T.

I love De La Soul.

Um. They changed the name. Get it right.

Did you know that Bombay, India has officially been renamed Mumbai - yet certain large American (New York Times/Los Angeles Times) media outlets continue to refer to it by the former name?

Of course I prefer to refer to the current American president by his proper name, Grand Ruler Richard Cheney.

So, like, whatever. Right?

Yay nature

On the way home on the boat yesterday, there was a HUGE, orange harvest moon hanging between Manhattan & Brooklyn. It was so low on the horizon, it looked like somebody'd erected a giant glowing pumpkin on the side of the Manhattan Bridge.
Too bad I had no camera...

Ben & Jerry's Oatmeal Cookie Chunk is THE JAWN*

*meaning very, very good

Velma from Scooby Doo is half black.

STARTLING NEWS FROM THE NBA:

The Utah Jazz have finally redesigned their uniforms. Apparently, Salt Lake City is finally coming to grips with the fact their favoritest negro ever and the greatest of the great white hopes in the NBA have moved on...

pullupyadampants

I was getting on the boat the other day and saw what must be a world record for the lowest hanging britches ever.

Little dude in front of me was wearing a dashing Roca Wear ensemble, and the crotch of his pants was quite literally down to his ankles.

Do not misunderstand, I am very much a proponent of comfortably loose pants. I, however, have a test: if you pull your shirt above your waist and more than the waistband of your drawers are showing (assuming they're not pulled above your navel), then you apparently need a size smaller.

Other indicators that your breeches may have too much sag:

When wearing your light colored pants, you step onto curbs tentatively because you're worried about sullying the seat of them causing the young ladies to mistakenly think that you've soiled yourself.

You can't walk over 1-liter Coke(c) bottle without knocking it over.

People in the fashion district keep asking who designed your denim sarong...

These NYC cats take sag to a whole other (ridiculous) level.

My first official hang-out night in NYC

I've now officially "hung-out" in "The City".

After chatting with a former UT'er and his friends and then going to Junior's with another, I went to my roommate's girlfriend's birthday celebration (that was a long sentence...).

I took the boat back and rode home with two of the guests from the party. On the ride home, I was just getting out of the car when a strange, gurgly burp came from the rider in the back seat. We checked to see if he was OK because this young man had had a good few drinks. He said he was all right. I then caught a whiff of something slightly alcohol based with just a hint of digestive fluid. In the next second the back door was opening and the gentleman was quite calmly throwing up quite an amount of liquor.


I can't fathom the idea of voluntarily taking part in an activity after which it is fairly likely that I will vomit. That seems as though it would cause problems when chatting up the ladies. This is why I don't drink.

Of course, the image of me chatting to women at the bar would probably be a mite humorous to most who know me....

'Twas an interesting day indeed

I recently came to the realization that my junior high Math/Science teacher bears uncanny resemblance to Molly Shannon. Barbara Ann will chuckle when she reads this.

Is roller blading as fun as it looks?

Only 2 months in and Things Are Already getting Freudian

So...
I had a non-successful audition for a part on a pilot (that I wasn't really right for yet still managed to get enthusiastic about) yesterday. I was feeling a mite fretful after it, so I came on back to the apartment and decided to get a couple of hours of sleep that may have done me some good prior to the audition.
I drank a ginger beer (that's not alcohol, Dad, calm down) and passed out. I then proceeded to have a dream where I had a chance meeting with Danny Glover and he told me to get in contact with his production company.
Wow...nothing like subconscious desperation.

Another way the world should change:
There should be a rule that an auditioner should not be allowed to end an audition with the phrase "see you later". It gives the chanceless actor something to hang a false hope on when they need to get focused on not sucking at the next audition.

It's 9:18a on a Saturday morning and I've already been up for a couple of hours.

I'm getting old.

I hate current LG cellphone commercials. Although that adorable chile from Cyberchase is on one.

Nevertheless, they're stupid.

(exhale)

Sunday Afternoon in the city

I decided to ride along the Hudson River hike & bike path today. It was a pretty good little trip - from what I can tell, that sucker runs clear up the west side of Manhattan. That may be just warm up for Lance, but I gave up by 115th. OK, enough for the niceties. Here's what raised my full, voluptuous eyebrow today:

1) Before getting on the boat, some 5 (if that) foot woman with ass cheeks hanging out. I don't care if it doesn't show any more than a bikini. Save the beachwear for the beach. Interesting not to some: I believe this was an Italian woman, for sure not a youth (H-K, rejoice!).

2) Next, I saw a chile that had the most amazingly long, muscular arms that I think I've ever personally witnessed on a female.
She was at least 6'1'. Could be a model, but her face was proportionately too large for the rest of her body and she was a little pigeon toed. It seemed to me that she still had some growing to do – and that pigeon toes is a learned habit that can be unlearned. Regardless, there's got to be some sport at which this child excels. In Texas she would be forced by local government to play volleyball.
She had a baby with her. The way she doted gave me the impression that it was her child. If so, I hope that she not allowed that to be a hindrance when it shouldn't be.

Beautiful young woman...

I pray the best for her .

3) I decided to go back downtown through Central Park, saw the protesters milling about ("oh, yeah that convention thing is this week"). Saw conspiracy revealer Alex Jones interviewing people. He's got a show on Austin Community Access called Infowars thats nationally known (yes, I said it comes on cable access - people get out there and speak!). Google him and black helicopters if you don't know of his work. The weird part about it is that I'd seen a big black helicopter on the west side helipad that made me think about him.

the world continues to get smaller...

And now for the Living in New York City Lesson of the day:

There's a place over on the East Side 40th called Best Wings that has a turkey burger that is quite fine. It actually more of a sandwich than a burger; it was on some kind of deli roll instead of a bun, the lettuce generous and the tomato cut thick. The turkey patty was a mite thin, but that made it satisfying without being heavy. Plus it had some kind of mesquite sauce on it. Look at me. I am food critic.

I'm hungry and poor.

Peace

From now on I will try my best to restrict my business dealings to small, independently owned businesses and to take part in more co-operative ventures. Overly corporate entities contribute to miscommunication or lack of communication altogether. It promotes the problem of monetary privilege - companies will go to great lengths as long as you have money to spend, but put the consumer ever at the disadvantage when entering into a contract (which, between actual human beings generally exist as these strange, flexible, amorphous things called "agreements"). As we enter more contracts with more corporate entities, we become all the more conditioned to being hopelessly indebted (in debt) to them. We want to fight against them, but we don't have time to take away from our jobs because we have to have whatever it is they've convinced we can't live without. We will end up raising children who assume that whatever a corporation tells them. Omni-correctness.

Which, by default will make them omni-powerful.

Omni-correct
Omni-persuasive
Omni-political
Omniscient
Omni-philosophical

Omni-dominant.

Or maybe we are those children
(like you didn't know that was coming)

Support your local locale
(Hollye, put that on a T-shirt)

Peace

Testing One's Own Theory

Last week my mother endured some financial silliness (that was my fault) during which she came with that Bennett Fire(tm) the daughters of Annie Muriel are known for getting extra crunk at the drop of a camel hair. During the experience I thought how much easier it is to get anything done when one remains calm.

Now I get a call from a collection agency saying that I owe my old apt complex over $300. Given that when I saw the number I thought it might be an agent calling and I was just waking up, I got excited quickly. I dismissed that caller quickly ('cuz they'z on my daytime minutes), and call the complex. No one answers. I leave a terse but PG message stating how important it is that an apartment manager contact me regarding the matter.

Fast forward past the call to an office underling at the apt and a call back to the lady that called me earlier. I decide to check the property management company's website for contact information. During an e-mail to them, it occurs to me that my little theory regarding calm during tribulation has reared itself back on me. We'll see how I do...

Lessons learned:

When you rent make sure to pay attention to how many days past the last day of the month you have to pay before rent is considered late.
See how much the late fee is.
Check all fees regarding move-out cleaning (I had this covered, but good not to forget).
Check how much notice is needed before move-out.
ALWAYS look up a property in a search engine to see if there are news stories about it or online complaints. Check the BBB. You'll be happier.

OK, time to get off of the island.

Later.

Blessed

Something just occurred to me:

I went into grad school w/o much stage experience at all and I ended up leaving with my Equity card.

I arrived in NYC the last week of July. By this last week of August I recieved a letter letting me know that I was eligible to join SAG.

So I guess I can't be too upset that I didn't called back for Medal of Honor Rag.....

(but I do think I'll be upset enough to do better next time)

I went outside today at about 5:30p. The sun was out and pretty bright. There was a breeze. Humidity was comfortablly low (for all I know there was none). It felt like it was in the low 70s.

And it's not even September yet. This must be that "fall" season I've heard so much about.

Yay.

They paid this dude to write this?

Aside from my general position that "hating" is usually nothing more than telling people they shouldn't do dumb s#!*, I find the article below particularly useless.
It causes me to be all the more amazed that ESPN.com took a good idea like the Page 2 site and ruined it with Page 3.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page3/story?page=boyd/040820

Could I have just posted the article? Sure. But I wouldn't want to dilute any of this writing gold with my unfortunate tendency to "hate".

P.S.: Would somebody please remind the hip-hop acts that they got fans in all five boros? Next time somebody shouts out to the boros before or after their set, it would be nice if they'd remember to mention Staten Island. I was intending to live in at least a couple of the other boros while I'm here, but the more people from the other boros crap on SI, the more I think I'll stay here and enjoy not smelling the garbage (which is indeed ironic).

More fun Actor Living in New York Lessons

If you have an Equity principle audition at the Equity building, get there at 7a, schedule your audition for 5:00p, then go back home and go to sleep for three hours (or to a more convenient location on Manhattan, if you happen to be so blessed).

If you have an audition for a play and you have to get your own script for said audition, GET THAT @#%@# AS SOOOOON AS YOU CAN. The competition will make all available copies disappear quick!

At what point will women cease to crush their toes and kill their feet wearing unnatural and unnecessary high heel shoes? The madness must stop....

People, if you have a legitimate beef about something, by all means, raise stank to high heaven 'til that *ish gets fixed. However, if you are breaking a rule that you know is a rule (such as playing music/smoking on the ferry when its posted ALL OVER the thing that such activity is prohibited), just stop when asked. The only exception is organized is civil disobedience with readily provide-able reasoning for your position (organized doesn't mean it has to be more than you, but it does mean you have to have some justification that you can provide when asked).

I don't know if me and my roommate's West Highland terrier are going to make it until January. I just don't know....

The Kid Is 1 for 1

This past Friday I went out on my first audition.

Later that day I went on my first callback.

Yesterday, I booked my first job.

This is encouraging.

Yay God.

More fun stuff later...

The best crazy people money can buy.

So, I'm heading home on the 1 train last night at about midnight thirty. As I'm indulging in an abandoned New York Times, I see man coming into the car. He's walking and shaking some change in his hand. I assumed he was coming through asking for change. However, he didn't say anything to anyone as he made his way through the car. When he got just past me, he noticed something on the floor. I didn't see anything there, so I assumed that he saw some change under the seats. I watched him as he reached down and he started reaching for a spot on the floor where there was no money, so I was trying to figure out what he wanted there. All I could see was a tiny pile of some substance that look like crushed chalk on the floor. So the reaches and sticks his finger out and I realize that little pile of white is what he's going for – I say to myself, "Self, is he about to taste that,". And, of course, tastes it. (?!?!??!)
As everybody in the car sits stunned, the man stand back up and heads for the door at the front of the car. He pauses for a moment to adjust himself (which I was he was going to turn into a flashing), and then he shuffled on through to the next car like The Tramp.
A lady and I looked at each other as if to say, “I know this dude didn't just do the Crockett and Tubbs cocaine taste test on this stuff on the subway floor,”. He passed back through out car and headed toward the back of the train.

Life in NYC...wow.

After three road trips back and forth between Grambling, La and reaches as far-flung as White Plains, NY (and whatever I places I went while getting lost trying to get around White Plains) I have relocated to Staten Island. I was only here for FOUR days before I finally got up the courage to get on the ferry. I've been sleeping days and up nights and I didn't know if it was a bad a idea to ride late at night (what can I say, I've been conditioned)

Anyway, I took my first ferry ride yesterday. It's pretty nice to be on the outside on a nice day. Seems like a nice way to see the Statue of Liberty for free. I was headed into the city to scout a route for a meeting I have this Monday. One important thing I learned: I sweat like an ice cold Snapple when I'm downtown. It wasn't even really that hot out. Sweating can be a problem when you're headed to an audition, so I'm going to have to find a way to address that.

Two important things: heading left from an odd numbered building in Manhattan will not take you west. This isn't a problem if you're intent is to get to the East River. It IS a problem if you intend to head to West 57th. This will be very mentally noted.

Fact of New York life - if one person honks, everyone else must honk twice as long (at least). There were some streets blocked near midtown for a street festival. Put simply, this was causing hellafied gridlock (on a Saturday??). People finally started going crazy at one intersection, and this bus driver decided to lean on his horn for what was at least 3 minutes straight. I'm sure there's some horn communication system that NY'ers have devised that I don't yet understand. However, I won't be getting a chance to learn it 'cuz I WILL NOT be driving on Manhattan during the day. EVER. Don't even bother asking.

Procrastination (aka fear) strikes again

waited too long to get to new york

waited too long to sign with commercial agent

now agency doesn't want to sign any new people

"check back in a couple of months"

the beast strikes and wounds

the beast is thee, yon procrastinator...

the beast is thee.

mmmm...nature

I was headed home and I turned around on 290E to head back west toward the right turn onto Ridgepoint. After I made the turn, I saw a silhouette of a dog crossing over the highway. It moved really smoothly and had a real small waist. I thought it was a fox, but I figured it would be gone before I had a chance to see if it was wild or just a dog.
I turned right onto Ridgepoint and looked to my right and was able to make it out; still on the hill next to the street. I could make out the shape of the face. The snout was small, and I figured one of the foxes from St. Edward's made its way north. It got in some light and I saw it well enough to see that it was too big and the wrong color to be a fox. I pulled onto the curb to try to get it with my headlights. I figured it would run but it didn't. It paused and looked back at me long enough for me decide that it was a coyote. At first I thought I'd gotten really lucky and seen a wolf, but it was too small. A coyote is rare enough though. Only the second I've ever seen.

Look at me appreciating suburban wildlife.

Will women dig that?

The long overdue really long wedding post

Wow, it's only been eight days since my last post - I'm getting better. In the spirit of redemption, it's time to recap Knighten matrimonial hi-jinx that I've been meaning to report on for some time no.

SO, back in January, my man K. Knighten and his fee-ahn-say L. finally got married. I'd been told that I was supposed to be in the wedding, and I wasn't getting any work done on my thesis, so I went ahead and ventured to Houston. My first stop was my lodgings for the week: Asia's house.

Aw-ight, now, you know how you figure that you'll always be in an apartment until that second child comes along. Well, my man Asia kinda jumped a few steps ahead (and, to be honest is make a sound financial investment). He went and got this FLYYYYYYY crib in Katy. Three bedrooms, an office, BIG den, big kitchen, two car garage (fuh them late-night visitorinas?), juss alla dat. The joint’s just fly. I plan to host at least one get together there before I move out of Texas. Just dope. Anyway…


First wedding event: picking up the tux. Not much to say here, just that Al’s Tuxedo needed to have their @$$es kicked for being closed on New Year’s Day. And them punks expensive – and you don't even get to keep the tie or anything. I ever get married, my groomsman’ll be wearing DryFit™ & Gazelles.

The wedding was Jan, 3 so we had the bachelor get-together that Thursday before. We did that at this Jazz joint in downtown called the Red Cat. That was cool. We were there for a while. All night. Like 6 hours. We got receipts.

Third wedding event: going BACK to Al’s Tuxedo at like 10 in the morning that Friday to pick up the tux. I got there before the chumps were even open. So, I walked around the Galleria. They've got like, a whole new wing in that joint. They've also got this water sculpture deal that shoots water from the ceiling to a pool below. It sounds crazy. It looks crazy. Go check dat out.

Fourth wedding event: wedding rehearsal. Now, Friday morning before getting up to go get the tux, I had the inkling that I should get cute, break out the khakis and all. However, I thought twice and decided to go with the Standard cWj Uniform (or SCU): windpants, crew neck and kicks – this come would come back to haunt me. So, Friday around six I show up at the church downtown (after getting some straight CRAZY news from a friend of mine – dass anutha post). We did the rehearsal thang and I was all happy that the bridesmaid I got paired with was cute (none of ‘em were ugly, but I got to look out fuh the kid, nahmean?). So we did that and iss time to go to the “rehearsal dinner”. Nobody bothered to tell me, however, that there's a dress code for this thang. Plus it’s, like at a country club. So, Knighten’s gotta go to his house and says he'll bring me something. So we go there and I'm waiting in the car for some “good clothes” like a child. Eventually we all get in and the eating commences. What ELSE I'd not been informed of, is that this is like a programmed event. So, we eat a while and Keith gets up and starts talking and introducing everybody, and Linda introduced some of her people, and gifts were given out, and Linda’s mama started crying, and she started crying, and I had to get up run MY yack. At the end of it all, we finally left at like 11:30. Bear in mind that I've been up since the early morn. By the time we left, it was much time to go, and all them bride’s maids was makin' me feel all needy. I finally got back to my truck at the church (forgot to mention that the rehearsal reception was 20 miles away from the reception). I stopped at Chacho’s and went to Asia’s crib and knocked out.



Event #5: THE WEDDING

So, I'm a groomsman, right? Which meant that I had to be at K.’s house (in Galena Park – 40 minutes from Asia’s) by 9:30a. I said screw it and went early, got dressed there. That meant I left at about 7:30a. Now, for normal people this prolly wouldn't be a big deal. But I'm a grad student. In ACTING. Me and early just don't match. The only time I see anything that even looks like dawn is when I'm getting ready to lay it down to the gentle glow of Clifford the Big Red Dog at 5a.


So we get to the house and get dressed and I look at myself in the tux and think the same thing I thought when I tried it on in the sto': fitted pants make my head look big. Dressed and ready, I am now officially at the beckon call of the groom. First assignment: flowers. Now, the night before while watching the bridegroom/groomsman segment of the procession, I got the feeling like we should be giving them something. The bride and her mother had about 15 bouquets between them by now, and there just seemed like there needed to be at least a couple of buds tossed the ladies’ way. So, I got the flowers (which took a while for me to explain to these dudes to trim the stems, then trim the stems some more, and not to forget to trim the thorns. At least I got to watch the train roll down Fannin. So K calls me like “where you at” and I'm like “doing your bidding, punk back up”. I get back to the church and after de-thorning the roses and trimming the ones destined for the maids some more we were ready. Well, let me clarify: the groom and his men were ready. In traditional wedding fashion, we were waiting for the bride and crew. It seems they left without the veil and had to go back. From what I heard Linda’s mom was chewing them out or something. I now realize the upside of not getting to keep my tux: not having to deal directly with the bride’s affairs. Women getting married or involved in a wedding all seem to go nuts about the same time.

So the wedding went down, and I must say that the service was actually the exact right amount of time. We went in, did our thang, and went out. Now I had my big job for the day: MC’ing the reception….oh, !$#!@#$…

So I get to the reception hall (yet another country club way out in the suburb of Whoville) at about 2:30p. Somehow or another, it wasn't until that moment that it occurred to me that I had six more hours to go before the end of the deal. So we get the thing started, and I finally got the program and to be completely honest didn't really know WHAT the hell was supposed to be going on. The first thing up was the introduction of the people sitting up front at the “wedding table”. Which was cool, except I only knew like two people up there. So I'm like “can I get a list” and Knighten’s pops (Eddie!) was running around trying to get that. SO, if I haven't mentioned it yet, the bride is Nigerian. Which means her people are Nigerian. When I got the list of the people at the table, I couldn't make out some of the handwriting, which I usually could've dealt with, but with the Nigerian names I really needed to be able to make the letters out. So I ask Eddie what some a couple of the names are. So he takes the list and calls me over to a couple of the Nigerian women there who proceed to try to tell me how to pronounce the names. Which meant that I had to explain to them that I wasn't asking for pronunciations – I JUST COULDN'T READ EDDIE’S NERVOUS CHIKIN SCRATCH. So we finally got past that and go things moving. We even managed to get through the scariness of trying to organize this room of several hundred Negroes from all over the world through the buffet line (and you know hedz was like TRYING to eat).

After we got through the major formal parts of the program and K and his bride went and did their costume change (out of the wedding stuff into traditional Nigerian gear), I finally noticed that the majority of the people there were Nigerian. For some reason I assumed that the Knighten’s being from Texas would dominate. I forgot that we were in Houston, and the Nigerians exist there in hearty numbers and will straight bring the numberage at a family function. We were supposed to do dances with the family then have an open dance floor later, but during the bride dancing with her mother, the Ashobi women (kinda like traditional bridal support) came up and started doing this where they wipe a celebrants face with dollar bills. Next thing other people were coming up. Before too long, ALL the Nigerians were on the floor and had pretty much took over. It didn't help that the DJ was Nigerian and was eggin’ it on. I just let ‘em go ‘cuz I wasn't even trying to break that up. Later on I got run up on by some of Linda’s uncles telling me to have a dance for her parents. Then they did this thing where they all got around him and started tossing money at him. At this point I'm like DAG, what I got to do to get in the middle of summa this money toss stuff. You know, hey, I got people in Nigeria, too!!

So the Nigerians ran the dance floor after that until the end. I finally sat down for the first time in about five hours and even managed to chew on some chicken breast for a minute.

I must say that was the LONGEST day of my life. But it was probably one of the more fun, too.

Some things learned:


Go ahead and let heads eat first thing at the reception.


Change out of your rental shoes if you've got to walk around a lot (still got bruises from the tongue of them damn shoes).


Let know the bridesmaids know if you're going to give them flowers. I thought it would be cool if we surprised them, I think it just ended up with them looking at us like we were crazy while we tired to give them the flower before they crossed to their side of the isle. It was obvious they were nervous and seemingly abit stressed….that ish was funny.


Invite Uncle Sam to as many events as possible.


Nigerian women, even if they actually think your jokes are funny, will do nothing but scowl at a wedding if they are doing anything but spectating. This may apply to other functions, but I'm a little too intimidated to investigate.


Nigerians will, given the smallest opening, take over your sh!t.

And that ain't necessarily a bad thing.



Peace,
theweddingEmcee

another monday morning

it's 2:13a Monday morning.

Janet Jackson has finally solidified her place as a crazy-@$$, jackson (nobody would believe me after that album "Janet". Maybe now they will.

I haven't even started writing a paper that's due in less than 13 hours.

And my face is breaking out.

(Insert Charlie brown sigh here)

I wonder if Madonna reinvented herself as an acoustic guitar playing/song writing/ all-natural/small venue type, would Janet Jackson suddenly sprout a 'fro/locks and don an arm ankh & headwrap and sign with Okayplayer Records......

Blah...

It's 1:48a monday morning.
I forgot to pay my car insurance before it cancelled.
I neglected writing down what the reading assignment for my monday class was.

And so I say: blah.

I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to try to just use the Willie Wells piece that I performed this summer as my thesis piece. Not quite sure how to turn that into 40 total pages of info, but I'm closer with it than I am with my other idea.

I was in Hollywood Video the other week and I saw this little kid that kept picking this little earring looking thing off of the floor and putting it his mouth. Then he put it back on the floor and went face-down to the floor to try to pick it up. Some adult-type person of some relation was with him but not noticing due to scanning the shelves for some Saturday afternoon DVD-based entertainment.
And so, once again I ask....should I have intervened?

God, please let Hollye get the Houston READ! job.

God, PLEEEEEZE let me get outta here wit my peece o' paper.

peace

a clothing quandry....

yet again I've neglected my dear blog for far too long. I keep having these experiences and neglecting to document them somewhere. Shame on a nuh...

Here's a recollection of something that went down last night that I e-mailed to a few people, think I"ll just start putting this stuff here then send links to the blog (exposure!!)).


- So, I go down to the my local HEB (dass dah groshree sto fuh ya'll outta townuhz). As I was grabbin myself a few hours worth of snacks, I noticed this choclate chile of youthful comportment so I catch a glance, give an internal eyebrow raise, then get back to my shoppin'. I just happen to see the young lady again and realize that she's wearing a Spurs Jersey with what I assume are shorts that don't come below the hem. Again, whatever, I keep marchin'. Once I get to the register I realize that ALL she has on is the jersey with a black tee underneath, sorta Mariah Carey-style. So as not to burden her with my inquisitive gawk, I try to go to another line and, of course she's in one of only two express lines and the other one's kinda full, so I suck it up. I noticed her doing to some semi-awkward dips to reach for some dropped paraphanalia and was really quite surprised at how she managed to do so without revealing her posterior to the general populace, though she did sneak quite a hint at the beginnings of cranny..... It was about then that I noticed a little down-pointing white triangle around the small of her back showing from underneath the jersey. And so it hit me.

She was wearing a thong.

So was I wrong for not suggesting that she might need something more substantial than a (barely) large basketball jersey to cover herself when coming out into public?

Just the jersey with no shorts seemed like it could have been just a shortsight, but the thong leans me toward the belief that this may have been pre-meditated hoochism.


Your input is appreciated.