Wednesday, November 26, 2008

Caption Contest: Nov 26, 2008

You know the drill. You create a caption; I score on a 0 to 10 scale. Have at it!

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

It's not rocket surgery!

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to have to play santa? I'm thinking, you put on a suit, stuff it with pillows and shit (or even a hula hoop!) and start ho - ho - ho -ing. Right? I mean, come on ... is it really that difficult to be santa? Does it really take a special skill, a special SANTA skill that you learn only at SANTA school and that only SANTA-ologists employ?

You might remember this video that I posted many moons ago, and you might think ... well, maybe:



But let's be honest - this was less of a santa skill that it was a test of overall stupidity. CLEARLY getting up on a snowy, sloped roof is a fucking BAD idea. And there obviously was no plan here, because as you can see ... the stupid mother fuckers didn't even bother to put a ladder, a step stool ... a huge inflatable canvas, etc. to get this stupid bastard off of the roof. He's lucky the damn cars were so close to the garage door. Otherwise, these kids, who obviously believe in Santa, would've seen Santa die.

If you remember Weird Al (am I dating myself), you might remember the night santa went crazy:



Or maybe, the word on the street is that Santa is "Straight Mobbin'"



Either way - my point is this ... is there really a shortage of santas? I mean, bitchez will dress up and make a fuckin video about the man pushin dope ... and there's "AN ACUTE SHORTAGE" of santas!? An acute fucking shortage!?

Well folks, there is - Germany is in dire fucking circumstances right now because they can't find enough santas to pay SEVENTY FIVE MOTHER FUCKING DOLLARS AN HOUR to do the fucking job. In this worldwide recession (but we're not calling it that). SEVENTY FIVE MOTHER FUCKING DOLLARS AN HOUR!

Why?

Because they have to be trained, according to this article, to park a few blocks away so the kids see them in sleighs and not cars ... and they need to have clean police records. These are some tough standards.

Damn, Germany ... seriously? Tell you what ... fly me in and I'll take three weeks off of work to play santa for $75 per hour. But ... I'll be working ten hour days, 7 days a week. Thanks.

- JACK "with a clean record" MARTINEZ

P.S. How do you say "Pony" in German again?

Monday, November 24, 2008

Obama, Latinos and My babies

Clearly, this is time magazine and they get all the credit for this here pic. So, Time, don't come at me talking about I stole your picture and all that ying yang. It's your cover, I done told everybody, Y YA!

A special thanks to JADED for traipsing all over New York City in search of a copy of Time magazine for me. And the November 5 issues of the NY Post and NY Daily news. I was stuck in RED-AS-HELL Nashville, TN during the election and I wanted as many keepsakes as I could get. Except I didn't have transportation so I asked her to find them for me. And she did! That's LOVE right there, people. She isn't all into politics, this was her first time voting and she didn't exactly have a good experience at the poll, and still she went out and did this for me. *xoxoxoxoxo*

So, this weekend I told my kids we would read the magazine. "BARAK OBAMA!" they exclaim gleefully whenever they see his picture. The article I chose to read was one that I thought the kids would be most interested in, less about numbers and strategies and more about how Obama is a Prince, because he made a King's dream come true. Great article.

As I read, I asked them each if they could be President when they grew up. My son says, "yes ... if I WANT to." He's the best. He wants to be an engineer like his daddy, and great as Obama is ... Obama's not as great as his daddy. *tear* I love that boy to PIECES.

At one point my daughter stops me and asks, "What's a Latino?" I explained it to her that it's people who speak Spanish, like us! She points to her brother, "Latino?"

"Yeeeesss."

She points to herself, "Latino?"

"LatinA. It's like abuelO is a boy, and abuelA is a girl. So, LatinO is a boy, and you're LatinA, cuz you're a girl."

"Latina!" she says as she points to herself.

"Right!"

"It reminds me of cappuccino"

"Why's that baby?"

"La-TEEN-OH .. cah-poo-cEEN-OH"

"I guess you're right. How do you know what cappuccino is?"

"Cuz I'm smart."

"You really are, baby."

I'm telling you, it's times like those that make all of the sleepless nights and all of the illnesses I've endured from having them sneeze and cough in my face and bearing all of PF's bullshit ... it's all worth it right then ...

When they seek you out and ask for a hug and say, "I just can't get enough of your hugs," you realize that in their eyes, Obama ain't got NUTHIN' on you.

Friday, November 21, 2008

Dear Santa:


Santa,

I made this here Christmas Wish List (and a special thanks to DUDE for offering a $5 Walmart card - I'm totally expecting it now, you know ... email me for the addy :-) and as Jaded does the internet gift equivalent of cock-blocking ... I've got to ask you to do something for me ...

Can you please define "good?"

Sincerely,

JACK Martinez

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Things that irk JACK

Back in the day (when I was young and not a kid anymore) I was prone to say "hmmmm" a lot, because of that stupid song about 'things that make you go hmmm' and it occured to me recently that there's some new millenium shit that still makes me SMH. For instance, here are 5:

  • People that create online dating profiles and don't care enough to proofread their shit. What's worse, I know that some fools are just as stupid as their profiles suggest. Like that one dude that signed off, "Duces!" (smh)
  • I still can't stand the term "conversate," and while many people have come to realize it's not a word, it's been the bane of my existence for years and years. I still can't help myself from saying, "you know that's not a word, right?" every time I hear it. I don't care if it comes off as pretentious ... For the most part, it's the minorities that use it and I'm tired of us using terms that make us sound ridiculous when we're using them in order to sound intelligent! (smh)
  • I know this one is TOTALLY self-serving because I have an affinity for Black men ... but I can't stand it when gay, Black men say they won't date out of their own race. rEaLy!? I mean, isn't being a minority within a minority a pain in the ass already that you want to limit yourself to that small little subset of people? rEaLy!? And let me tell ya ... I've dated a lot of Black men ... and, fellas ... the pickins are pretty slim. (smh)
  • Sprint! Lawd have mercy - the mere image of their logo on a billboard or magazine advertisement sends my blood to boiling. I had them bitches for way too fucking long and all they did was fuck up my bill, give me shotty service ... and when I complained that the service in my own mother fucking house (a stone's throw from exit 9 on the interstate, mind you) was at about 1/3 of one bar ... they offered to sell me a contraption that would boost the signal in my house. Does my property look like commercial land you can raise up cell phone towers on? I dropped them and am with Verizon now. Didn't I ALREADY pay to get a damn signal? DIDN'T I?! (smh)
  • Parents that curse at their children. I have nothing more to say on this one. (smh)

Oh, these are only 5, ok? This is NOT an exhaustive list.

Carry on.

Playa wit' no game

Look, if you’re going to call me boo and talk about how when you are going to hold me .. about how my head will just only gonna reach your chest … and how cute it is … and tell me about how cuddling is so important to you and if I like to cuddle …

You tryin’ to woo me.

When you tell me you’re too busy to come into the city to meet with me – you’re raising red flags.

But when you tell me you’re in the damn city and had dinner with a friend? You done fucked up your whole game, playa … the WHOLE game.

So after a few hours, I text the following: “Our last conversation got me confused. Well, pensive.”

How about my phone rings within mere minutes. Gee, I wonder who it is.

So, I bring up the obvious – and he admits that he’s talking to two other dudes.

But seriously – why the fuck couldn’t you just say that in the first place? I mean, it’s all good – for real, FOR REAL – it’s all good. Like, I’ve been talking to you and not exclusively …

But you know what’s funny? He never asked – it just has not even crossed his mind that this guy is expecting me to go to his place on Thursday night to get my birthday present … and is totally expecting some ass.

(Now, needless to say – this guy couldn’t get in the ass if I gave him a compass and a flashlight and took him there … but that’s besides the point)

… so why all the fucking mini-drama. Like, if you wanted me to know … why drop hints? And if you didn’t want me to know … why fuck up? I mean, come on … the playas playbook CLEARLY says not to talk to one cat when you’re with a different one. You don’t’ answer text messages, you don’t take or make calls … and you certainly don’t tell one that you had dinner with the other.

Was there an update to the playbook and no one told me?

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Jack's Christmas List

Well, you know I ain't got no shame! I put out a wish list for my birthday - did you really think I'd skip Christmas!?

  • An electric mattress pad. Not necessarily an electric blanket but I could always lay it on the mattress underneath the mattress pad. I'd like two - one for my bed in Indy and one for my bed in Chicago. Both are Queen sized beds.
  • A comfortable bluetooth. Why do they make those things so damn annoyingly ill-fitting!?
  • Any contribution towards paying my Spring '09 semester tuition ($800) - it will be my last payment to that place.
  • A kick-ass set of headphones for my ipod - in black. I hate those ear buds.
  • 180s - you know those earmuff things that wrap around the BACK of your head? Those. In black.
  • Gas Cards - in any denomination. Driving back and forth between Indianapolis and Chicago is KILLING me.
  • A set of those Barak Obama gold-plated coins. They're hot.
  • Walmart gifts cards rule!
  • Alarm clock radio that you plug your ipod into. So i can wake up to something other than that annoying blaring alarm clock buzzer.

Of course, I'm likely to get a chia pet and a homemade christmas card ... but I'm putting my list out there anyway.

The way WE does it ...

I don’t care what nobody says … THIS the way to learn your A-B-C’s



… even if my son watches this and appreciates only that he sees Elmo.

Sunday, November 16, 2008

The Martinez SEX Continuum

For those of you that participated in my original post, I'm finally posting the SEX continuum:


Saturday, November 15, 2008

The Stoned Koala

A koala was sittin' in a gum tree...... smoking a joint.



When a little lizard walked past, looked up and said,


"Hey Koala! Whatcha doin'?"





The koala, seeing an opportunity not to smoke alone, said "Smoking a joint; come up and have some."

So the little lizard climbed up and sat next to the koala, where they enjoyed the weed.

After a while the little lizard said that his mouth was dry and that he was going to get a drink from the river.

The little lizard was so fucked up that he leaned too far over and fell into the river.

A crocodile saw this, swam over to the little lizard, and helped him to the side. Then he asked the little lizard, "What the fuck's da matter with you?"

The little lizard explained to the crocodile that he was sitting smoking a joint with the koala in the tree, got too stoned, and then fell into the river while taking a drink.

The crocodile said that he had to check this out, walked into the rain forest, and found the tree where the koala was sitting finishing his joint. The crocodile looked up and said,"Hey you!"



The koala hung over his tree branch, looked down at him and said,




"Shiiiiiiiiiiit, duuuuuude..... How much water did you drink?!!"

Friday, November 14, 2008

... Or Forever Hold Your Peace

video

Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Best Birthday Ever


<
<
That's not the sheet cake I expected to get, but upon arriving at the Walmart bakery with my babies, I decided to let them decide what cake to get. And this was it. And they got to decide what the cake said.

They wanted to eat at Wendy's and so that's where we went. Afterwards, we went to Walmart, chose the cake and I bought a few other things. What a miracle it was that I stuck to the short list and qualified for the 20 items or less line. This is a rarity for me at SuperWalMart. But I did it.

The kids each chose a candle - both a number three. And when we got home I let them put the candles on the cake. It ended up looking like this:




I lit the candles, gave my daughter the camera and they were waiting on me to blow out the candles. I just sat there. "I'm ready, Daddy!" exclaims my girl with the digicam in front of her face.

"Where's my song?"

They sang me happy birthday in unison. And it was the sweetest, bestest thing ever. Thinking about it now as I type makes my eyes watery. Folks, I love the SHIT out those kids. I mean, I just love the SHIT out them. aye!

I did the whole blow-the-candle-out bit in slow motion to make sure my daughter felt like she captured a good pic ... and it's a cute one. I'm crossing my fingers and my cheeks are puffed out.

Then we all had a piece of cake and some milk.

I got them bathed, teeth were brushed, prayers were said ... and my babies are sound asleep as I tell the whole world ...

This was the best birthday I EVER had.

Positively Negative (Part II)

So, they call my number. "Red Folder ending in 03." But I'm playing Scrabble on my phone - it's my most recent guilty pleasure. I've played 1000 games or so since i got my damn phone. It's like cocaine-laced blunts for wordsmiths, I swear.

Anyway - I hear an, "excuse me, sir" and since I'm the only one in this waiting room that is assuredly, undoubtedly male .. I look up. He points to me and says, "number 03, is that you?"

"Oh, yeah."

Two other counselors behind him call numbers and by the time I get my bags together and over to the door, there are three of us patients and three of them counselors looking at each other like "who's whose?"

My counselor starts point and pairs up the other two patients with the other two counselors and then points to me and says, "you're coming with me." I'm prone to considering omens and I'm already convinced they're going to mix up our test results like this too. I'm nervous - what can I say.

So, we go back into this little ass room - I swear to God, the room is like a closet. And I'm thinking to myself that if I was the type to lose a grip (and I am) that I would totally hit all four fours simultaneously somehow if the results are bad.

We sit and talk and he wants to rehash all the same shit I just went over with the nurse - you know all the shit you don't want to admit and write down. Yuh, that stuff. So, I explain to him my indiscretion and give him every little bit of specifics.

He asks me if I condsider what I did HIGH risk or LOW risk.

Uhhh, ok, numb nuts, I'm here ... obviously I consider it HIGH risk. I consider it the highest of high risk behaviors and I'm about to lose my mother fucking mind over what I just done did and ...

"I'd say it was high risk."

He shakes his head. "Actually, everything you jsut described to me is extremely LOW risk. I think you'll be fine."

huh. Ok - so, we go back to 9 months ago when THAT mother fucker cheated on me. We discussed how I was at a loss at the time because I was in a monogamous relationship for over a year and I was doing all the right things ... settling down and all that shit. And WHAM! THAT mother fucker goes outside the relationship and has the gall to come back and touch me without telling me. THAT shit irked me.

And, let me say that while I acknowledge that our relationship was on the rocks for a while and that it was really stressful and likely to end ... *I* still respected him enough not to cheat. And I promise you that if I had done it, I would've told him before we got intimiate again. I got none of that in return.

At any rate - he wants to know what it means to me if I turn up negative. I say that it means that my partner nine months ago didn't infect me. He asks what it would mean to me if I turn up positive. I said it would mean a complete change in lifestyle.

"That's true."

Jack nods.

"Anything else?"

Jack raises an eyebrow and shrugs: "no."

"Would you consider hurting yourself?"

"Oh my God! NO! I REALLY like me."

He smiles and seems assured that I'm being honest. WTF! I mean, my babies need me, right? And I had already decided that morning as I looked at their portraits on my wall that even if I'm positive I can still be a good daddy to my babies. It helped the anxiety ebb away as if it were an instantaneous shift of the sea to low tide. I knew that entire day that it would TOTALLY suck, but that I would STILL be the best daddy in the world.

I considered all of the hand sanitizer I would buy and have with me everywhere - I also wondered about those clorox wipes that come in a little pack ... neurotic, I know - but no matter what I experience as an ADULT ... my babies will be (ALWAYS!) sheltered from it ... no matter what that means.

Anyway, he asks me if I'm ready for him to go get my results.

Does the Queen sit on her money?

"sure"

And he disppears from the closet of a room for what seemed like three and a half days. When he gets back, he has trouble closing the door because my backpack was sitting on the floor between my feet and was preventing the door from swinging shut (didn't I tell you think was a closet of a room?) and I'm convinced it's an omen.

My anxiety flows, the tide coming high as instantaneously as it had ebbs that morning while I stared at my babies' portraits. He sits down.

"Well, you're negative."

I sigh audibly, laying my head down on the desk. "Thank you."

"Well, *I* didn't do anything."

"Yeah, well ... you know. I'm just relieved."

"Yuh, I know."

... and the cold rain pelting my face as I walked back to the 'el didn't bother me one bit.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Positively Negative (Part I)

It was that time of year again – time to let some phlebotomist practice his/her craft on one arm or another. I usually go to my primary health care physician to get tested, but with my back and forth between Indy and Chicago, I just haven’t been able to get it together. I do some digging and find a local health clinic that’s actually quite convenient on my way home to my apartment in Chicago … and they have walk-in hours. SCORE!

So, I go to this clinic. The clientele is nothing like that I find in my primary doctor’s office. I got my number and had a seat and had some serious trouble figuring out who was male and who was female. I texted my friends and told them that like John McCain I was just going to refer to everyone in there as “THAT one.”

So, they call my number (17) and I get a bunch of paperwork to fill out. Apparently anonymous testing is free (and here I’ve been paying for my doctor’s visit and then paying for the blood draw at the local hospital!) but they also offered testing for syphilis, gonorrhea and some other shit I can’t remember. The shakes, werewolf-ism or whatever. I figured, eh – since I’m here and the phlebotomist is going to sink a needle into my arm anyway, why the hell not. I paid the fee to get tested for everything under the sun. (Later, the HIV counselor referred to my decision as having chosen the $20 Car Wash with the under carriage wash and wheel brightener. Sort of like that, yuh)

So, I’m assigned this new number – ending in “03.” And they periodically come out and call “red folder, ending in 01!” Someone disappears into the back. “red folder, ending in 02!” Someone disappears into the back. “JACK!?”

I’m mad as hell – this schmo just called me out by my full first name! I mention this on the way in and he says that he couldn’t remember my number but he remembered my name so he just went with it. The dude’s a brutha, quite tall. He’s lucky he was cute because I wasn’t so mad after that. (terrible, I know) I flirted my ass off, mainly to distract me from the pure unadulterated hell that it is to go get tested (you’d think that feeling would stay with you when you’re in the dark corner of the club trying to figure out whether or not to swallow … but alas, it’s like the pain of childbirth. You forget it as soon as they tell you you’re negative). I explained to him that he better get to a vein in ONE attempt. He tells me he’ll try. “I’m gonna need you to succeed, because I *will* go back out there talking about you.”

“How you gonna put that much pressure on me, man?” he asks, laughing coyly.

I smile back and say, “I’m just saying – get in, get out.”

“Well, it looks like you have good veins”

“I’m more concerned with you having good AIM.”

He looks at me and laughs. “you crazy.”

He does indeed get it on the first try – and it’s over as fast as it started. He explains that the nurse will be in in a minute to discuss my paperwork with me.

Now, you know how you’ll tell your friends some shit like, “yuh, I sucked his dick” or “I fucked the shit out him.” And it’s all cool? But when you’re filling out a form that specifically asks you how many times in the last 6 months have you performed oral sex, or how many sexual partners you’ve had in the past 12 months … it all becomes frightening reality? Like, wait a minute … lemme count …

There was Adam .. oh, and that one time with Jerome, and three times with Duane … and what was that guy’s name again? …. Mark… MARCUS, that’s his name … and ….

Well, it’s not all so much fun and games at that point. And then looking at this nurse dead in her face while I’m trying to count how many partners I’ve had in the last 12 months … she says, “if it’s more than ten – just tell me more than ten. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

“OH MY GOD! Noooo. I’m just trying to remember … six. It’s six!”

We discuss the specifics of my activities … condom use, condom slippage, oral sex … ALL OF IT. And in the end, she decides that I’ve not really put myself in any high risk situations since the last time I got tested (9 months ago).

“I’m still scared, though,” I admit.

“Well, yeah – it’s like a jungle out there. It’s natural.”

And out I went back into the waiting area until the counselor with my results called my number … or full first name if he can’t remember it ……

Tuesday, November 11, 2008

JACK's Babies

So, I called my kids last night ... and their mother actually answered the phone! (TWICE I called last week and no answer. At 7PM! And their bedtime is 7:30, so I know they were home. She just doesn't answer for whatever reason. Annoying as fuck!)

This was the first time I was able to speak with them since the election, so I was thrilled. I told my daughter that we were going to have a new President. She yells, "BARAK OBAMA!" Yuh, we doing ok raising these two. (Even *IF* they momma won't answer the phone when I call!)

Anyway, my daughter was talkative, to say the least. She just went on and on and on about the 'randomest' of things ... They have a new set up in her classroom where you can start EARNING dollars (fake money, of course) instead of just losing them when you misbehave. Each day, they start out with five dollars. Apparently, she ended the day with SIX! Her goal is to get 10 in one day. I am so proud of her. Apparently, that time when she came home with 3 dollars and I flipped a switch on her little 6-year old self, I made an impression.

"We get 4's and 5's in this house. You hear me? I don't want to see this 3 business NEVER again. Understood? We don't send you to school to disobey your teachers and hang out with your friends. You're there to learn. And I don't care one bit what your little friends do ... they're not mine. 4's and 5's in THIS house!"

"ok, daddy."

And now? Her goal is TEN! She's a brainiac, sensitive to the core and HATES to disappoint any grown ups ... so, this one is in the bag.

My son? He gets on teh phone making helicopter sounds and yelling like a siren.

"Papito."

*helicopter*

"Papito!"

*sirens*

"PAPITO!"

*laughing* "yes, daddy?"

"How was your day, papito?"

"Good."

*crickets*

LAWD have mercy - when will I learn to stop asking this boy closed-ended questions! He's a total boy.

They're both estatic that I will pick them up one day earlier this week - on Thursday. It's my birthday and they're coming home with ME, you hear me? We discussed what type of cake and ice cream I should get ... and we're going to have a GREAT weekend ...

... mainly because I'm buying a half sheet and that fucking cake is gonna last at least a week.

I so love being a daddy.

Monday, November 10, 2008

JACK's Camera

I have a decent collection of photos I've taken over the past few months and it's time to post them. You know, because usually one photo blogs just aren't nearly as cool as those putting multiple people on blast simultaneously. For instance, the man with sleep apnea on the Red Line train:

This dude was dead-to-the-world asleep, snoring loudly over the cha-chang of the 'el train as it meandered through town. He was so annoying ... and then, he'd gag and wake himself up. I'm just saying, it might be time to go on a diet.

And in the fashion category, we have two entries. I know folks clown on men who wear black dress shoes with white tube socks ... but THIS I've never seen:


Can't nobody tell me this is a man's issue and a man's issue only. Grey toe reinforced tube socks and heels are IN.

And then I spotted this cross between Rainbow Bright, Wendy and Pipi Longstocking:


A fucking tragedy. I don't even know what the bottom piece is called. I know shorts that look like skirts are called skorts ... but what about capris and skirts? Aye, I can't deal.

OH! And I totally now know what it means to hav eyour panties in a bunch!


I was at the Mickey D's drive through when THIS came across me. I mean, I have never, ever, EVER seen something like this:


I know that bangs are trying to make a come back ... but honey, THAT shit you got going on ain't never gonna make it. NEVER, you hear me?

Lastly, I would like to say that there is a time when a business must reinvent itself, like changing their logo or going back to coca cola classic because you OBVIOUSLY fucked up the formula. For all of you businessmen (and women) out there, please consider the future of your business when coming up with a name, though. Here is an example of some BULLSHIT that won't work:



That's all for now - but remember, JACK is out there lurking right there out in the open with his camera.

Carry on.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Digging to the knuckle


How nasty is THIS shit? I mean, just because you cower into the corner there ... doesn't mean we can't see you.

And if JACK sees you, JACK is taking snapshots and putting you on blast on the blog. That's just the way it is.

And just in case you can't really see what's going on here ... here's a close-up:

The man managed to get his pinky into his nostril to the knuckle ... right there on the red line ... during rush hour.

And exactly how involved in this nonsense can you be that you don't notice the dude across the aisle taking pictures of you?

He was totally clueless, rolling snot on his finger and wiping his hands off on his pants.

But that's not all folks ... at one point, face buried in his book, he gets hungry, I guess.

Yes folks, he pretends to be thinking really hard while he reads his paperwork, but COME ON, how stupid do you think we are? You're eating your boogers and that's that.

I suppose people are going to do what they are going to do ... but in public while the rest of us are putting in our time on the train in order to get to work? COME ON ...



But it gets better ... someone actually occupies the seat next to him ... and then he takes to picking wax out of his ear.

I'm just sayin - if you wanna be a nasty mother fucker, I'm snapping pics and putting you on blast.

It's what responsible bloggers do.

Carry on.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

JACK needs to vent

You know how hey say that if you keep having the same problem that the common denominator is you? Well, obviously the problem is all me. And what's frustrating me is that this is the same problem I've identified before. And yet, here I am again.

Either I am attracted to the wrong type of guy or I attract the wrong type of guy. Either way, it's ALWAYS the wrong type of guy. Consider these things over the last two weeks:

  • I was chillin with this dude on the DL. We were sitting in a bar out in the middle of nowhere and neither of us knew anyone. I told him, "you look really good, man." The place wasn't crowded or anything ... the rest of the night goes on. We drink, talk - joke around with the bartender (she was funny) and then nothing happened because he was TRASHED. lol. I get a text message later that week "My business is gonna be all out in the streets if I keep fuckin with you." The short version from this point on is that I haven't texted, called or anything him since. DL niggas are annoying as fuck.
  • The dude I met earlier this year with whom I was smitten for for a bit ... he finally told me that he's upset with me and that he will eventually be able to talk to me. Mind you, he mentioned several weeks ago that he was just really going THROUGH it lately, and I called him each day to keep his spirits up. So, this dude is DL too (pattern, I know) and he was really feeling me and when I told him to shit or get off the pot (exact words) he got off the pot and we stopped toying around with the idea of being together. Maybe he's upset that I told him that he might be busying his life to not have to face his sexuality and he disagreed. Oh, did I mention the man has a twin brother who's gayer than the day is long and is out and the whole family accepts the lifestyle? I can't begin to understand. But this masculine man who is on the DL is upset with me and doesn't want to talk to me right now and he will let me know when he's ready. WHAT?!?
  • Been talking to another guy recently, though. Was supposed to go see him this weekend. It was my only free weekend really and I was looking forward to it. Apparently, it turned out it was the same weekend he was having a dinner party ... so he invited me to that. It's been quiet on the HIM front and so I texted him only to find out that he had to cancel his dinner party and sent out emails, but forgot me. Oh. Nice.
  • Two other dudes I was getting to know - I called each of them, left messages ... neither called me back.
I've decided I'm trying too hard. Thing is that I have it clear in my head that I'm not looking for anything serious - if it happens, then it happens. I said as much in an earlier post. But apparently, I'm STILL trying too hard.

Although, I suppose I could call back when I leave a message that isn't returned instead of just categorizing it "another nigga I ain't even gon' bother with." Yuh, I could just be desparate and keep calling ... because THAT worked really well with the nigga with whom I was smitten with.


So, aside from just accepting that I SUCK at picking men, I've also learned that apparently, masculine DL niggas turn into whiney little bitches when they don't get their way.

There I said it. It's been on my mind for a hot minute and I really needed to get that out.

Masculine DL Niggas are mirages, like oases. Except you don't have to be dehydrated and exhausted to see them. They're all over the fucking place ... hiding a terrified, vulnerable little bitch behind a stoic face and a goatee. You might THINK it's a man, because he look-uh like a man, but nay nay: Sheep in wolf's clothing.

I'm finally listening to the intelligent people in my life who have said this to me time and time again - I'm targeting the gay men who are at least as out as I am. If you're out there, email me - I'm in dire need of a good dic---- urrrr. I mean, HEY! How's it going?

(what? I had to maintain the humor that is central to my blog, right?)

carry on.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

America the Beautiful

Remember when the rest of the world used to respect this country? Remember when we actually had pretty good relationships with UN Nations and for the most part everybody liked us?

It might seem like many moons ago ... well, probably because it was. I have been concerned about this year's election because I knew that I knew that I knew that if this country couldn't elect Obama (you know, the man who gathered a crowd of 200,000 + in Germany?) and instead elected McCain (you know, the man who recently emptied a town's schools so that they could attend his rally and it could appear full? The man whose town hall meetings weren't nearly as well attended as Jim Jones' trip heading south?) ... we would've been perceived as a regressive country unfit to lead the world, incapable of being a world power ... and oh, the repurcussions that would've brought with it.

But - nay. We got it right. Well, about 52% of voters got it right. And this article made me remember what it feels like to feel proud, to beam with it so damn intensely that chills run down my arms and makes the hairs on my neck stand at attention. (I mean, you know you SOMEBODY when Nelson Mandela write you a letter, ok?) You don't have to click the link if you don't want to - here's the text:

PARIS – Barack Obama's election as America's first black president unleashed a renewed love for the United States after years of dwindling goodwill, and many said Wednesday that U.S. voters had blazed a trail that minorities elsewhere could follow.

People across Africa stayed up all night or woke before dawn to watch U.S. history being made, while the president of Kenya — where Obama's father was born — declared a public holiday.

In Indonesia, where Obama lived as child, hundreds of students at his former elementary school erupted in cheers when he was declared winner and poured into the courtyard where they hugged each other, danced in the rain and chanted "Obama! Obama!"

"Your victory has demonstrated that no person anywhere in the world should not dare to dream of wanting to change the world for a better place," South Africa's first black president, Nelson Mandela, said in a letter of congratulations to Obama.

Many expressed amazement and satisfaction that the United States could overcome centuries of racial strife and elect an African-American as president.

"This is the fall of the Berlin Wall times ten," Rama Yade, France's black junior minister for human rights, told French radio. "America is rebecoming a New World.

"On this morning, we all want to be American so we can take a bite of this dream unfolding before our eyes," she said.

In Britain, The Sun newspaper borrowed from Neil Armstrong's 1969 moon landing in describing Obama's election as "one giant leap for mankind."

Yet celebrations were often tempered by sobering concerns that Obama faces global challenges as momentous as the hopes his campaign inspired — wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, the nuclear ambitions of Iran, the elusive hunt for peace in the Middle East and a global economy in turmoil.

The huge weight of responsibilities on Obama's shoulders was also a concern for some. French former Prime Minister Dominique de Villepin said Obama's biggest challenge would be managing a punishing agenda of various crises in the United States and the world. "He will need to fight on every front," he said.

Russian President Dmitry Medvedev said he hoped the incoming administration will take steps to improve badly damaged U.S. ties with Russia. Tensions have been driven to a post-Cold War high by Moscow's war with U.S. ally Georgia.

"I stress that we have no problem with the American people, no inborn anti-Americanism. And we hope that our partners, the U.S. administration, will make a choice in favor of full-fledged relations with Russia," Medvedev said.

Europe, where Obama is overwhelmingly popular, is one region that looked eagerly to an Obama administration for a revival in warm relations after the Bush government's chilly rift with the continent over the Iraq war.

"At a time when we have to confront immense challenges together, your election raises great hopes in France, in Europe and in the rest of the world," French President Nicolas Sarkozy said in a congratulations letter to Obama.

Poland's Foreign Minister Radek Sikorski spoke of "a new America with a new credit of trust in the world."

Skepticism, however, was high in the Muslim world. The Bush administration alienated those in the Middle East by mistreating prisoners at its detention center for terrorism suspects at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, and inmates at Iraq's Abu Ghraib prison — human rights violations also condemned worldwide.

Some Iraqis, who have suffered through five years of a war ignited by the United States and its allies, said they would believe positive change when they saw it.

"Obama's victory will do nothing for the Iraqi issue nor for the Palestinian issue," said Muneer Jamal, a Baghdad resident. "I think all the promises Obama made during the campaign will remain mere promises."

In Pakistan, a country vital to the U.S.-led war on the al-Qaida terrorist network and neighbor to Afghanistan, many hoped Obama would bring some respite from rising militant violence that many blame on Bush.

Still, Mohammed Arshad, a 28-year-old schoolteacher in the capital, Islamabad, doubted Obama's ability to change U.S. foreign policy dramatically.

"It is true that Bush gave America a very bad name. He has become a symbol of hate. But I don't think the change of face will suddenly make any big difference," he said.

Obama's victory was greeted with cheers across Latin America, a region that has shifted sharply to the left during the Bush years. From Mexico to Chile, leaders expressed hope for warmer relations based on mutual respect — a quality many felt has been missing from U.S. foreign policy.

Venezuela and Bolivia, which booted out the U.S. ambassadors after accusing the Bush administration of meddling in their internal politics, said they were ready to reestablish diplomatic relations, and Brazil's president was among several leaders urging Obama to be more flexible toward Cuba.

On the streets of Rio de Janeiro, people expressed a mixture of joy, disbelief, and hope for the future.

"It's the beginning of a different era," police officer Emmanuel Miranda said. "The United States is a country to dream about, and for us black Brazilians, it is even easier to do so now."

Many around the world found Obama's international roots — his father was Kenyan, and he lived four years in Indonesia as a child — compelling and attractive.

"What an inspiration. He is the first truly global U.S. president the world has ever had," said Pracha Kanjananont, a 29-year-old Thai sitting at a Starbuck's in Bangkok. "He had an Asian childhood, African parentage and has a Middle Eastern name. He is a truly global president."

___

AP correspondents worldwide contributed to this report.

Tuesday, November 4, 2008

Kids - you can be President

As tears flow down my face, the realization sets in that our President elect is bi-racial. Like MY kids. And I can now tell them, in GOOD conscience, that they really, really can do anything they want ... my bi-racial children can become anything they want. They can even become President, if they want to - Babies ... listen to daddy: You can be anything you want to be.

ANYTHING.

This is so much bigger than winning an election. This is so much bigger than one party over another. This is so much bigger than one platform over another. This is bigger.

Bigger than Anything.

Bigger than anything I have ever been alive to witness.

ANYTHING.

Barak Obama - Thank you.

DEATH PENALTY NOW!!

There is a group of people that I believe should be executed immediately.

(Great first line, right? Tell me you're intrigued ...)

I have absolutely no reservation whatsoever about sitting these mother fuckers down in that chair up there and I have no qualms about being the one to pull the lever. None at all. In fact, I'd love to smell the burn. Depraved, I know. I know. But I don't take it back. People that inflict fatal injury on children have no place among the living in my book. You might think that I am referring to the tragedy that Jennifer Hudson's family is facing ... especially considering one of my earlier posts. To some extent, yes. To a larger extent, yes to the other Chicago killing of a nine year old girl - she was found sexually assaulted and lying dead in an alley like she was some rag doll. But what incident has me seething, my blog post dripping with venom? It's these punk ass, heartless, conscience-less Mexican mother fuckers who kidnapped a five year old for about $20,000 in ransom and found out that the parents had contacted the authorities. You need to click here and read what they did. I can't even type it. I can't.

I have a five year old son, folks. I love him with more love than I ever knew possible, and every time I see him, I love my son more. MORE, people ... MORE. My daughter? She bestills my heart everytime she climbs her 60+ pound 6-year old body into my lap and asks me to hold her. I love them more than I love my own life. I love them more than I love my own SOUL. I would go to hell a dozen times if it would prevent them from getting even a splinter.

So pardon me for wanting to so punish people who harm children. Or don't pardon me - I don't give a fuck.

Just let me be the one to flip the switch - so that I may switch it on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ... then off ... then on ...

I'm SEETHING.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Overwhelming JACK

Written two weeks ago

I find myself at home, late on a Saturday night. I know full well that people everywhere are getting all fancied up and preparing for a night out. There are condoms at the ready and a countless many will be discarded before dawn, wrapped in some sort of paper and forever separated from its wrapper. And I know full well that I'll have nothing to do with any of them.

And it's sitting well with me. I'm thrilled to be sittin' up in my place on this Saturday night. There's nowhere else I'd rather be, no one else I'd rather do ... but me.

I'm certain of few things - but one of them is definitely, assuredly, un-fucking-doubtedly this: Being at home and listening to the quiet is good for my soul. Especially tonight.

I can't say that I've had an especially hard week or anything ... but it's been a pensive one. I've considered many things, analyzed various aspects of my life and tried to bring into focus that which lies ahead of me in the near and distant future.

Things have just changed. I'm settled well in my new job, am getting accustomed to driving 500 miles a week and living in two cities ... and I can't really justify ignoring the impact of the decisions I've made in the past year by saying I'm in transition. I'm not. Not anymore. Not after this week.

Nothing special about this week, folks - just that I kind of just cocked my head to the side and exclaimed, "huh." And from that moment on, my mind has raced (in circles at times) and tried to make sense of the new world I live in ... of my relationships with all sorts of new people in my life now ...

And I've come up with at least this: Chicago represents so much in my life right now - it wasn't just happenstance that the one job offer came during the very week my last paycheck was scheduled and that it came from Chicago. Consider this:



  • I've said for years that I wanted to move to Chicago. It was a big city (like the kind I've missed for years now) and it was close enough that I could still be part of my children's lives. Their mother is hell bent on staying in Indianapolis and that bitch ain't moving anytime soon ... and at some point, I need to to me ... I thought.

  • I decided that moving away from my kids was unbearable. I didn't do it - and I stayed miserable in a job that I hated. It was making me physically ill. As soon as my front tires hit the asphalt in that driveway (EVERY DAY) my anxiety would palpably skyrocket. And I did it for my kids.

  • But the decision was made for me and eventually that job and I came to a consensus - I couldn't stand being there and they were tired of me being miserable. I walked in that Friday and within 30 minutes, I was walking out jobless. And it felt GOOD. An eery calm went through me and I smiled on my way out. Some divine peace, really. It was weird.

  • All that anxiety for like two years folks. And the Lord gave me six weeks to do abso-fucking-lutely nothing. I ended up redoing my kitchen. LOL. It was fun.

So, I get a job offer from Chicago - they'll allow me to telecommute once to three times per week ... the pay is better ... and VOILA. No stressful job. I am dealing better with the ex wife than I ever did before. I have my kids EVERY weekend (yay!) and I know a lot more people know than I did just 8 months ago.


Yuh - so Chicago is my sanity, my haven of rest, my fulfilled wish, my Xanax ...





Today
So, what can I say ...I had forgotten about this post and just found it in my drafts ... I had called JADED just yesterday to have her talk me off of the proverbial ledge (thank you, hawwwnnneyyy!) and she was so there for me.

Apparently, I have left a lot of shit undone ... and I got an email from my instructor that we should've had five assignments turned in and I only had two turned in. I was like WTF! And it turns out that I totally missed an assignment. I thought I was two assignments behind ... but no. It was three. That means I was six weeks behind in my school work. fuck fuck fuck.

So, we decided that I needed to focus on school work and I did. I actually completed an assignment last night! And so now I'm only four weeks behind. And today I actually did some reading so that I could complete one more assignment (a submission in our class discussion forum, not one of the graded assignments I missed) and I will complete it by the end of the day tomorrow.

And by the end of this week, I will complete one more of the assignments that I missed and turn it in. I see a light at the end of the week ... and it feels good.

Obviously, I need to get my shit together, embrace the life I have and stop moping around like I'm some gay, Puerto Rican Eeyore ...

I don't live in no 100 Acre Wood.

(mmmm .. wood.)

The Evolution of Indifference (6)

Chapter 1


Chapter 2


Chapter 3


Chapter 4


Chapter 5


Chapter 6: Experimenting

My next experience was with my girlfriend’s brother. Yeah, I know – classy. You remember her, right? The one I went to church with who was pretty as hell and I really liked? Well, unfortunately, I didn’t like her brother at all … but, it was something to experiment with. It really wasn’t anything to write home about – we played frottage through our clothes. Big whoop. But at least I confirmed that you really, REALLY can’t wash remorse away with hot water. But that shower at least made me feel less dirty.

So, things were getting too close to home. I couldn’t continue to do this with people in my circle because eventually it would come to light. And I didn’t want it to. I couldn’t let it come out. In the end, I was still Latino amidst the machismo-ness of it all and still in church amidst the going-to-hell-ness of it all … so, no one could know. No one. So, I took to experimenting with strangers.

In public.

What a fucking retarded decision THAT was. In public! Because *that’s* a surefire way of not getting caught. You’re intrigued, aren’t you? Who – what – when – WHERE? Relax, I’m getting there.

You’d be amazed by the shit that goes on in crowded New York City subway cars. Fucking amazed. I mean, you’re packed into those mother fuckers like sardines, feeling people breathe on you, cough on you, jam an elbow into your ribs or a pocketbook into the small of your back … and occasionally, your hand ends up on some dick. I’m just saying – it happens.

I can’t tell you how many men I felt up. All willing participants, of course. Two are memorable – the man that was way too old to be fuckin with me who actually busted in his slacks when I reached behind me to grab a hold of what he was trying to bludgeon me with, and .. well … my regular. All the others just kinda fade into the meaninglessness in my life. Actually, these two do too, to be honest. But since I’m writing about it and forcing myself to try to remember those morning subway rides on my way to high school, those are the two I remember. The man in his 50’s that should never have been fuckin with me? I remember him because as he came he sounded like a blithering, blubbering idiot stammering out loud intermittently. He had no couth, among his many issues, and EVERYONE around us knew. Fucking idiot.

But my regular. It was a delicate dance on the subway platform figuring out where to stand to ensure we were not only going into the same subway car, but into the same door and also the last to get in. It’s less obvious when you’re by the door … you don’t have people completely all the way around you, so you can exercise discretion. Because, you know – you want to be considerate of the people around you and everything.

By definition, we crossed paths regularly. One time, he wore dress slacks and a long trench coat. After a bit of stroking, I played with his zipper. I looked up at him and he nodded yes. Except, I really didn’t know what to do after I unzipped him, so I didn’t. At the next stop, people disembarked (look, I didn’t want to say “got off”) and others got on … and he negotiated the barter of passengers on the platform with those in the train. As the train started up again, he grabbed my hand and moved it to his dick … and I mean his dick. Apparently, he unzipped himself and took his dick out his slacks and there I was … on a crowded subway train with this man’s dick in my hand, flesh-to-flesh with his overcoat hiding our dirty deed. While I stroked him, he spoke the only words I have ever heard him say. He whispered them and so till this day I don’t really know what his full voice sounds like. But I do know what that man whispers “I wanna fuck you,” it’s hot as fuck!

I don’t even know how that session ended – my memory ends right when he whispers that to me. I didn’t go anywhere with him … I made it to school like every other day. But to this day, I can go back into the recess of my mind that holds the memory of that session … and use it to its fullest extent when I’m flying solo. I know that I know that I KNOW that he’s the reason that talking dirty SO does it for me.

But even after that session, the remainder of the day went like any other. I made it to school, where I acted a fool, and later went to work at the Christian bookstore where I started every phone call with “Praise the Lord …”

I was a good little Christian … and worldly as fuck … all at the same time.

And my psyche was going to pay dearly for this duality.