Extreme Makeover - Home Edition

"Times have changed. Our kids are getting worse. They won't obey their parents they just want to fart and curse.
Should we blame the teachers? Or blame society? Or should we blame the images on TV? NO! Blame Canada! Blame Canada!
It seems that everything's gone wrong since Canada came along! Blame Canada...shame on Canada! ..they're not even a real country anyway." - "Blame Canada" Residents of South Park. (Sigh..yes, again.)

"Your karma is fucked up. I'm watching out for falling pianos." - Demps



OK. So maybe it is.

My passport arrived one day...ONE DAY after my plane took off for Paris.

Now, most people would look outward. Blame the government. Say it was an act of God.

"Wasn't meant to be..."

"Everything happens for a reason..."

"If it don't fit...don't force it."

All of these little sayings are designed to make you feel better about things that are "beyond your control". Perfectly designed to help you forget what went wrong...and instead, keep going with hope and faith that it's "not your fault". And I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart...from everyone who offered it. They were just trying to make me feel better by convincing me this whole thing was out of my hands and not my fault.

...When it just might be.


Now I'm not saying the passport office had their shit together...because they didn't. However, I could have had my passport expidited in case of unforseen circumstances. Ahem. I thought about it...but didn't think I'd have to. Slightly over confident...you think? Lesson learned.

Not to mention karma. You may not believe in it, but I do..and I can't lie, it hasn't been squeaky. I don't kick cats (I just move them with my foot) and I've stopped publically bashing Tom Jones, but I've also stopped doing positive things lately. I actually thought I had the karma thing back on track, but I can see I'm going to have to roll up the sleeves...again.

That's right. Another race. (Hey..it worked last time.)

The Lincoln Tunnel Challenge 5k on April 22nd.

1..it benefits the Special Olympics (which gives me DOUBLE kudos because I'm not directly connected or effected by this cause) and 2...

Ummm...how cool is it to run the Lincoln Tunnel?!!!

But wait...there's more.

The drivers license thing. (Monday, permit test. Yeah, I know you don't believe me. Just watch.)

And the health thing. (I began a very intense detox. Not getting into details but it's not pretty...or pleasantly fragrant.)

All these things and another really important step.

Take a look at the people around me. Haven't exactly been surrounded by positivity lately, and laugh if you want, but I think that negativity fog has been seeping into my world...like "The Nothing" from "The Neverending Story".

...and right about now, I could use a Luck Dragon like a muthafucker.

Now one thing I do know. You can't change anyone...you can only change yourself. So I'm fixin' to do just that.

I've got one week off from work...and one week to do some good making-over before my Thirty-(wow...) fouth (ouch) birthday.

Not a lot of time, but hey. If the world can be built out of nothing in six days, I can change my vida loca in seven.
(..Six, if I'm as gangsta as I think I am.)


On another note... how much money would you spend to find out who you really are?

For someone who may be adopted or...I don't know..Black...this is life altering. It's something other cultures take for granted, I think. They know their heritage...where they come from. So it's easy to take pride in that and in themselves.
And if you think about it, self love has a lot to do with knowing who you are.

I want to be able to say, "I come from from _________________."
And yes..I know. It's Africa. But that's way too damn generic.
That's like a white person being satisfied with "My people come from Europe."

So that's another thing I'm aiming to find out this week. Where I belong.

...belong.

Wow.

The ideaI is...well, pretty mind-blowing. And terrifying. And, pretty damn emotional.

I've purchased a DNA test that will tell me exactly where in Africa my anscestors are from.
My mother was born in Virgina, but she's not "Virginian".
My father's family is from "St. Kitts", but they got there, from where?
(Africa. Sure...but WHERE? What tribe? What people were we taken from?)

Once I find out...instead of my story being, "I'm half black and half Carribean..."
The story suddenly becomes, "My ancestors come from ___________, Africa. They were stolen from their land, and brought to the Carribean and America to work as slaves for hundereds of years. Eventually, my mother's side settled in Virginia, and my father's in New York. My mother's family then moved to New York...and here I am."

It's a great fucking story. I just need to fill in the blank.

And so, for my birthday this year....I could care less about cake or drinking or expensive gifts.

I'm going to find out who I am.

And what I'm made of.

...and see "The Lion King".

Because it's up there with Paris on my "things I want to see" list. Since I'll be here, why not?

As for Paris, don't cry for me Argentina.

I'll get there...exactly when I'm supposed to.

...but I think I want to go to Thailand first. (You know I'm not kidding...don't you?)

-Nye


Oh. And on my birthday, I want good pizza (no less than three toppings with at least two of them coming from a pig) and cold beer. Really cold fucking beer.

The Cure...part 2

Paris has been post-poned thanks to Uncle Sam and the Passport office.

So this is for you.

Feeling better...

The Cure

You know how "The Secret" made all this cake by jacking common sense? Well...I'm a little short on rent this month too...so I'm going to come up with my own "Secret".

It's called "The Cure".

And it's not based on common sense... it's what you were taught when you were a kid.

Here it is. Are you ready? Two words.

Immature cruelty.

But it's used for good....pinkie swear.

Let me explain.

You know how you have those days when shit just won't go right... and try as you might to be optimistic, you just hate everyone. Know that day? Yeah. Yeah. Me too.

But what do you do? Be optimistic? Sing "No Day But Today", and hope the sun will come out...tomorrow? Sure. You could do that...but you know what is even MORE fulfilling? Name calling. Yeah...

Now let's just say that your day is just leaning on you, like a sleeping fat person on the train. And during this day, there's just ONE person in particular that you wish would get shit on by a pigeon.

Yeah. You know who it is...but what do you do about it?

Well...the way I figure, having that kind of projected resentment towards a person isn't healthy...and if you hold it in...you'll spew that poison onto someone who doesn't deserve it...like the bitch with the really bad make up at Sephora. ...ahem.

So to "CURE" you of all that attitude sickness, here's all you have to.

Go Grade School on 'em.

Sing a nasty song about whoever you are hating at the moment...insert their name and VOILA!....you will be cured by the time you stop singing. Believe me...it really works. Really.

For example....

I'm off to Paris in a few days and Judes' boss won't let him go.

I'm really fucking pissed at her.

So, instead of just being angry...I've decided to sub "Kyle's Mom" with "Judes Boss" in this little diddy.

And to get the full effect, don't be shy. At the end...you HAVE to do the big finish. You HAVE to.

Oh..you'll also have to squeeze that name into two syllables. For example...Jennifer Lopez becomes J. Lo...George W. Bush gets shortened to "Ass-hole" ...you get the idea.

So happy singing...and please tell all your friend about "The Cure" and how it's changed your life.

That'll be $12.87.

(We'll miss you Judes!)

Not Everybody Starts Off Sexy

...I'm just sayin.

Ahh....I Feel Better Now

OH...MY...GOD.

Thank you Spartans.

One hour and fifty-seven minutes of 300 rock hard abs coming at you with testosterone-induced aggression spilling out all over the screen...in effin' IMAX.

I'm so grateful. So ...very...very...grateful.

Eff chick flicks. All you need is 300 Spartans in some leather Hanes, flip-flops and capes yelling "NEVER GIVE UP...NEVER SURRENDER!!" to calm the "bitch" in you right down. I'm purring.

So...ummm...sorry for that little outburst earlier. My bad. I'm gonna go cook now.

Would you like a beer while you watch "Sportscenter" baby?

-Nye

I Am Not Mr. T Or Whateverthefuck - A PMS Post

**Lots of profanity in this post. Not my fault. Hormones. Viewer discretion is advised. (...Ma.)

com·pas·sion (kəm-pāsh'ən)
n. Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it. (See Synonyms at pity.)

—Synonyms 1. commiseration, mercy, tenderness, heart, clemency. See sympathy.
—Antonyms 1. mercilessness, indifference.

"Have a little compassion! Sometimes a nigga just needs a hug." - My ex-fiance

"You don't care, do you? You really don't. Can you just at least ACT like you?" - Yet another Ex

"Bitch. Bitch. Bitch." - Carl


I am not Mr. T, because Mr. T was a pussy.

I saw beyond all that pseudo angry black man bullshit...looked past the fro-hawk and the truck jewelry, and paid attention to what he said. He pretty much called himself a bitch weekly for all of America to hear, and if you paid close attention...you knew that there was NO reason to fret. One phrase in particular melted any sort of intimidation from my pre-teen "A-Team" loving heart.

"I pity the fool...(insert reason why said "fool" is pitied here.)"

(Teeth suck.)

Look.

What angry black man you know (and I don't know about you, but I know plenty) let his crew drug him up on a regular basis to get his bitch ass on a plane? An angry black man don't give a fuck about getting on a plane, and let's just say he did. The minute he woke up, he'd commence to ass kickin. He would knock his boy Murdock right the fuck out because that was the only dude who came close to his pork rinds or whateverthefuck.

But not B.A.

He'd wake up in Cambodia and say some shit like ..."Where am I?"
Then, before he got too riled up, George Peppard would blow smoke out of his cigar and cooly say "Nevermind that. Here's a blow torch...we've got a bridge to build." (And by the way, the whole "drug the negro, drag him across the world and make him build shit" thing didn't sit right with me either...but I'm not going there. Not in this post anyway.)

Anyway, so then, while he's building the bridge or whateverthefuck, here comes a little Cambodian girl who smiles and hands him a hammer or whateverthefuck. B.A.'s heart melts...and now, for the next 40 minutes, he's trying to breast feed little Sim Leh or whateverthefuck her name is and...

Wait a second. Hold up. I'm getting way off track.

Here's my point.

Mr.T constantly said he'd "pity", right?

"Pity", is synonymous with "compassion".

And I'm lacking in that department.
And, (so I've been told), this is a problem.

Because when one lacks compassion, one is automatically labeled other things...

1. Bitch (in a "Devil Wears Prada" kinda way)
2. Mean
3. Cold

Which, I think is unfair. Because we don't label those with abundant compassion;

1. Bleeding Heart Pussies
2. Bitch (in a "Jack" from "Will And Grace" kinda way)
3. Mr. T

No. Noooooooooo. Of course not.

Look.

I was raised in a household where the mantra was ...
"..Oh well. What do you want me to do about that?"

Two hard working parents, four kids, one missing paycheck away from "Good Times" and no time to be kissing boo-boo's.

Insert any scenario where most kids would get some "compassion" and I'll tell you what we got.

Scenario 1: You were riding your bike. You fall...on concrete.

Most kids - Run home to Mom...crying hysterically. Mom hugs, kisses the boo-boo, makes your favorite lunch to calm you down.

Loretta's kids - Inspect the cut and make an informed decision as to what your next step will be, in an effort to prempt any scolding. Ask yourself, how bad is this cut? Will I live? Will it bleed through my clothes, and if so, do I need to go home and get a band-aid so that I don't mess up perfectly good playclothes? If not too bad, continue playing. If bad, (is she sleeping?)...quietly..QUIETLY..come back into the house (ALONE. DON'T YOU BRING THE NEIGHBORHOOD!) ...pull out the Hydrogen Peroxide and the cotton. Fix yourself up, head back out..QUIETLY.

Scenario 2: You were supposed to take out the garbage. You didn't.

Most kids - The garbage has been taken out while they were out playing and they've gotten a lengthy lecture on responsibility.

Loretta's kids - Walk into the apartment from playing, and no one in the house makes eye contact. Upon entering the bedroom, you notice the garbage...which is on your bed.


Now don't get me wrong. I've got LOADS of compassion for the big things.
You lost your job? Did somebody pass away? Starving kids in the Midwest?

Aww...man. I'm soo sorry. Soooo...soooo sorry. What can I do?

But for the little everyday shit that everyone...EVERYONE has to deal with at one point or another...um, no.

Bad day? Cramps? Balls itch? I don't care. I really don't.

And I've been told I have to care.

WHY DO I HAVE TO? Ughhh!!!!Why couldn't Loretta raise everyone?

Bad day? - Well...there's always tomorrow. (light a Kool.)
Cramps? - Take some pills and lie down somewhere. (light a Kool.)
Balls itch? - Scratch em, wash better or go to the doctor. (raise an eyebrow, light a Kool.)

Done. What's next?

Heavy sigh...so I've been told that I'm going to need to be enrolled in the
"Judes School Of Compassion"...so I'm pleading publicly for an intervention.

And maybe one day, one day...I'll give a fuck about you having to wait 20 minutes to be seated at brunch. Or get my own Saturday Morning Cartoon. Either one.


OK. Enough of that. Now the real reason I'm posting.

Shervon (my adorable younger sister) is starting driving lessons within the next week.

Which makes her not-so-adorable, but now, my arch enemy.

I'm fully aware that I can't accomplish anything unless I look at it as competition, so I'm throwing myself back into the goal full steam ahead.

BECAUSE THERE'S NO WAY IN HELL Shervon is getting a license and I don't have one.
I mean, that means all of Loretta's kids will be driving, except me. The last one.
Which means convos like this will happen "So. Who's gonna give Nye a ride?"...snicker...snicker.

OH HELL NO!! It's bad enough I'm the middle child and born out of wedlock, but I gotta be a non-driver too? Not gonna happen.

So I'm back on it people. And to show you I'm serious... I'm putting my money where my mouth is.

Shervon... I got $50 bucks on the table. CHALLENGE! (Like on the Cosby show...)

Bet you I get it first... nah-nah-nah-nah-nah-naaaaaaahhhhhhh.....

You accept? Or are you a Mr. T?

Today...I'm 14.

OK...I'm only going to say this once. Don't send it to me again.
This answers everything. Everything.


Three Things That Scare Me
1.Pigeons
2.Zombies
3.Being the first to say the following: I'm in love with you

Three Inevitabilities That Terrify Me To My Core
1. Becoming a parent...or not.
2. Losing the ability to orgasm.
3. Laying my parents to rest.

Three People Who Make Me Laugh
1. Esso
2. Not Available
3. Yarnell & Big (Sorry...they must be combined for the full effect.)

Three People Who Make Me Feel Like Everything Will Turn Out OK in the End
1. Mom
2. Judes
3. Oprah

Three Things I Love
1. 3 great courses with great company ending with great coffee
2. Any unexpectedly long and fantastic late night phone convo
3. Action movies

Three Things I Heart
1. Fresh soft pretzel nuggets w/ cheese (only available in theaters)
2. The endorphin rush after a workout
3. Spring

Three Guilty Pleasures
1. Sex. (Even when it's bad it's good.)
2. Sex And the City
3. Newports Lights (damn I miss smoking.)

Three Decadent Indulgences
1. Origins Microdermabrasion Scrub
2. Bliss full body massage
3. Those pricey ass chocolates Aaron gets me for my birthday. (April 6. I'm just putting it out there.)

Three Things I Haterade
1. Rent. (The actual bill...not the play or movie. No...those rocked.)
2. Country music.
3. Adult acne.

Three Things I Don't Understand
1. The Caucasian resistance to the cold. (That shit is amazing.)
2. "Early Birds" You mean..you WANT to get up at 6AM?
3. Faking orgasms. (Nobody wins people. NOBODY wins.)

Three Things on My Desk
1. A stone that says "patience"
2. Treasure chest
3. A lava lamp

Three [Innocent] Crushes
1. Bradgelina (I don't care your gender or sexuality. SO DO YOU.)
2. Dylon (He's two years old and the cutest thing I've ever seen.)
3. Anderson Cooper

Three People I'd Be Semi-Powerless Against
1. Prince
2. Vanessa & Jayla ( They're twins...they count as one. Three year old cuteness in surround sound)
3. Not Available

Three Things I Want To Do Before I Die
1. Get published
2. Own a house overlooking water somewhere
3. Get a freakin' drivers license dag nabit!!

Three Things I Can Do
1. Sing
2. Cook
3. Make people laugh. Hard.

Three Things You Should Listen To
1. "Music Of The Night" On Babs' "Back To Broadway" album.
2. My advice.
3. What his/her eyes say.

Three Things You Should Never Listen To
1. A man with a hard dick
2. Anyone who tells you how to change another person. They're lying.
3. Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam

Three Things I'd Like to Learn
1. Guitar
2. Organization skills
3. HOW TO DRIVE A DAMN AUTOMOBILE DAG NAMBIT!

Three Jobs I'd Love to Try Out
1. Madame of a brothel
2. Lead role in a Broadway musical
3. Movie Critic

Three Favorite Foods
1. Fried chicken. (Shut up.)
2. Macaroni and Cheese (Zip it.)
3. NEW ADDITION: Masterpiece BBQ Beef Jerky. (I promise you...the shit is made with crack.)

Three Favorite Quotes (This is when my mind goes blank, by the way.)
1. "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure." - Helen Keller
2."Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be" - Abraham Lincoln
3. "You don’t have to specialize - do everything that you love and then, at some time, the future will come together for you in some form." - Francis Ford Coppola

Three OnScreen Moments [That Always Make Me Feel Better]
1. "The Color Purple" When Shug Avery busts into the church...tearing apart "God's Trying To Tell You Something", she hugs her father on the pulpit and says "See Daddy? Sinners has soul too.." and waits for him to return the hug...and slowly...he does. Yep. Tears.
2."Purple Rain" When Prince bitches out after singing the title song, runs like a girl to his motorcycle...unchains it...suddenly hears the applause. Wait a second... and he heads back through the crowd, kisses a sobbing Apollonia, heads to the stage...grabs a couple of tambourines...bows...tosses them and launches into "I Would Die For You" and "Baby I'm A Star".
3. "The Lion King" From the start of the opening number "Circle Of Life"...to the finish and everything inbetween. The birds flying over the river, the fish jumping, the giraffes bowing, Simba getting some weird fruit juice smeared all over his head by Rafiki...who then lovingly cradles the cub, giving a proud look to Mustafah then shoving the baby in the air for all the animals to see. The music swells at the end..and the final verse.."In the circle..the circle of liiiife..." and then WHAM!! The title.
Ahhh...

Three Songs I'm Always in the Mood For
1.Prince "Power Fantastic"
2. Faith Evans "Reasons"
3. Stevie Wonder "Rocket Love"