The Truth is ...

... that I am post-dating this entry, and you may or may not read it. I'm not sure if I'm looking for advice or not. Truth be told, sometimes I just LIKE to wallow in disappointments. And I'm totally aware that that's because my life has been riddled with them since childhood (since the womb, but that's a totally different issue) and it's one of those things that's become commonplace - that sense of almost there, but never arriving ... as if my life is asymptotic to the threshhold to happiness. I'm ever close, but never there.

And deep down inside there brews a recent disappointment - a dude I really liked, who seemed to really like me and then who seemed to have fallen into a black hole somewhere, contacting me less and less and then not at all. In true JACK form, I made contact and texted this:

"am I EVER going to see you again? You've been avoiding me like I'm some sor tof plague"

"I'm sure we will - honestly, I've been getting to know this really cool dude for the past two weeks."

I really needed that. I had to just know it - just hear it - just read it. But the thing that sticks out is that timeline. You met "this really cool dude" AFTER you met me, considering we've been speaking for a couple of months. That part sucked ass. But, I'm grown and totally accept it. I'm not trying to be no fool for no nigga ... so, he's out my phone, BEEN off my buddy list and deleted all emails. It's just easier if it's out of sight.

Anyone ever do that? Or is it just me? I mean, remember back in the day when warner brothers had that series of cartoons that had this floating hand with a pencil eraser in it and it would just erase parts of the scene? Like, Daffy Duck would be talking, and then the pencil would erase his beak. I loved those cartoons. And I SO want one of those erasers.

But before I digress too far - although the issue itself is what it is and I can handle it (hell, I done broadcast to all ya that it happened) the thematic elusiveness of the things that could make me happy annoys the fuck out of me. It's not that situation per se, not it alone. Because since then I've considered that I've gained weight that I need to lose and I was where I wanted my ideal weight to be and I let that go ... that I used to be credit card debt free but that the last 18 months have been a strain ... and that isn't so anymore.

The list goes on and on and I am trying REALLY hard not to wallow. I have been jovial as FUCK at work today ... had people laughing all day (see yesterday's post - LAWD did I get a lot of mileage out of that) ... and all I can do is ignore that nagging reality that sits there in the periphery of my days ... this sucks.

But ain't no nigga done give me my joy - and no nigga can take it away.

(Even if I have to fake it til I make it)

So, tell me - for real - am I the only one?

For the Conscientious Traveler

THIS is a SARS mask

If you are traveling in an airplane in the coming weeks, please be sure to use the new, improved Swine Flu mask, pictured here:

The L Word, among other things

THIS is lube. It comes in many different fancy packages, and in many different names, but can always be found in one of two places: the pregnancy planning aisle, or the feminine hygiene products aisle. Sometimes, you can find it in both places. Go ahead - take a trip to the market and take a look. It can actually be a lot of fun. Lube is used during sexual activity to make things ... well ... there's nothing like a well-oiled machine, right? You know what happens to the engine of a car if you drive 90 mph with all the engine oil drained, right?

THESE here ... now THESE are Lotions. You can usually find them in the toiletry aisle - you know, where the toothpaste, razors and shampoos are. They also come a variety of packages. And here's the kicker - it's for external use only ... like everything else in the toiletry aisle. Much like you should never chow down on some Colgate and chance it with that whitening mouth wash ... you should never, EVER use Lotion as Lube.

Got it? I have done it for the last mother fucking time. THE LAST TIME. The first time, I gave it whirl and it wasn't all that great. THe second time, I kinda forgot about the first time and needed a reminder. But if a third time, I'm just stupid. Remember when I said that you needed to invest in a decent mattress? Invest in some fucking Lube too, dammit. Don't fret the cost - just DO IT ... because the next time you come at me shaking that bottle of Palmers it's YOU who's going to need it - because I'm ghost.

BUY LUBE - cuz I don't give a fuck how many times you've used it and that you've never had any complaints. You know why when you use Lotion, you SMELL like lotion? Because it's fucking scented, bitch - that's why. And I ain't givin up no ass if all you got is Lotion.

It stings, and nobody wants to smell cocoa butter all damn week.

Keep fuckin' w/ me ...

I remember it well, the day my roommate during the summer of 1996 told me that I was arrogant. It was really the first time I considered it, and he was so right. My self esteem was through the roof, but it really did cross lines. I took steps to remedy that ... to bring my self esteem to normal proportions and not feel the need to display it and ensure that people knew it by my treating them like inferiors. It was good for me.

Now, don't get me wrong - I'm still great and I'll still tell you ... LMAO ... but I don't need to flaunt it or be it at the expense of others. I've really toned it down. Becoming a dad and a man in my 30's ... yuh, I really don't have the energy it takes to invest in ensuring other people see me as spectacular. Quite frankly, I don't give a fuck - where's my couch?

But there's this one asshole at my job - LAWD. HAVE. MERCY. His self image perceives him to be way, way, WAY above his actual station and he's the one I have to work on this database conversion project with. He really thinks he can speak to me any way he wants to ... and hides behind his "director" title. Like, since I'm just a "manager" I'm supposed to let him speak to me any which way?

Oh, honey. No.

Furthermore, he wants to hide behind all this technical jargon as if I don't know some fucking IT terminology. So, he wants to start this email conversation copying the President to totally misrepresent what the fuck he and I discussed.

Really now? Ok, it's on. I politely replied, correcting him. And he came over to just talk it out. And then he send another email copying the President to recap our discussion, AGAIN misrepresenting what we decided. Essentially, he doesn't want to do the fucking work and is trying to sell the notion that what I want is IMPOSSIBLE.

(An aside - I did this same fucking project before at my last job ... and we did it ... so I know it's possible)

So, I put it in writing again - that's not what we discussed, and that's not what I'm asking for ... blah blah blah.

Amazingly, he's back to working on the project today and being nice to me.

Bitch, please. Don't play with me. You's about to find out what a pissed, gay, eloquent Puerto Rican sounds like ...

Those Reality Show Rat Bastards!

Have you ever heard of Elaine Paige? You might not recognize her here without all the fur, but I know you know the song:



Well, she's got pipes, fine. And on a recent episode of Britian's Got Talent they put a woman with a disability on stage. She's 47, admits to living alone with her cat, being unemployed and never even so much as having a first kiss ever.

Yes, folks - that Simon Cowell done stoop to a new low. And she gets on stage, obviously not quite "all there," and says she, at 47 years old, unemployed and living alone with a car, wants to be the next Elaine Paige. And the crowd mocks her.

Seriously?!?

Now, it's all fair game, I say - and I mean, I just laughed out loud when my friend told me she's at her daughter's swimming lesson and the instructor asked a kid to get a body board ... and the kid only has one hand. Yuh, that was funny ...

But it's not like someone is making money over asking the kid to get on stage and juggling, right? There's a fine line there.

So, this "next Elaine Paige," seemingly oblivious to the crowd's sneers and skepticism starts to sing ... and you'll see here why she seemed so oblivious to the crowd's moans and groans. Keep fuckin' with her, Simon ...

You will have to click here to view it because them fuckers at cowell's place done disabled the links for embedding. Her name is Susan Boyle - tell me what you think.

Size queens are crazy

I never understood size queens. I prefer my men to be of human proportions - that is, human-sized dicks are best fit for ... well, HUMANS. Especially for us humans without birth canals.

Birth canals are perfectly designed to handle those gi-normous, superhuman dicks > 9" long. And then girth?!? Dear LAWD - without a birth canal, girth is just plaing annoying.

Now, I've seen a birth canal morphe into some elastic band of rubber to accomodate the shoulder-to-shoulder width of a 7lb. 12oz infant (Why women fear the crowning of the head is beyond me - there's not been such a parting as that of a birth canal accomodating the shoulders of an infant since that Moses raised his staff over the red sea.)

My philosopy stands - I am *NOT* a size queen ... and I absolutely REFUSE to sit on a dick that makes a standard flashlight look like a AA battery.

unless he's the 6'4" inch, intelligent, charming, funny conservative nigga I had lunch with yesterday.

I had a nice time on my date with Mr. $299 for a Mattress, but you know my propensity to find something to be critical of, right? (OMG, you're thinking ... JACK actually knows this about himself? Yes, I do) So, the mattress broke the deal there and so I had to tell him that the chemistry wasn't there and we needed to hang out just as friends.

299 was gracious about it. He didn't need to know that I had already had a lunch date with 6'4 ... and that I invited 6'4 to my place last night ... really, it was superfluous information and really not something he needed to know.

And so 6'4 comes on over - see, it turns out that a couple of years ago he and I were actually chatting online, but never met. And that at the time we were both living in Indianpolis. And now, we happen upon each other again and when we connected on yahoo IM, we realized that we knew each other ... although we never met in person. And we now both live in the same part of town in Chicago ... during lunch, we talked about how weird it was and he looked at me coyly and said, "maybe it's fate."

"MAYbe," I said smiling.

FAST FORWARD TO THE EVENING

So, I get to the unveiling - and when I pull down his sweatpants (and OH. MY. GAWD. Do I love a man in sweats!) ... there I find out ...

Good God Almighty - this thing is ENORMOUS.

My usual response at this point is to ask, "um, what you gon' do with THAT?" Because, um - I'm no size queen. And this isn't going any further. But I didn't, although I did react ... and he DID notice.

THIS nigga wanna say, "I'm sorry it's small - it's all I got."

I roll my eyes and say, "Hush it up."

... and since my title pane CLEARLY says this blog is rated "R," thems all the details I'm spilling. But suffice it to say, It's 12 hours later and this Kool-Aid smile of mine has not subsided and shows no sign of doing so because he texted me this morning to say, "I meant to say last night was soooo good."

Yes. Yes it was.

Random steam

Would you steal this bike?

I laughed out loud when i walked outside for a smoke and saw this thing tied up in front of the building. I mean, I suppose it's possible that the owner takes the seat with him when he makes his deliveries, but it's not totally out of the realm of possibility that messenger-owner of this bike rides it around downtown Chicago looking just. like. this. It's not. But to see it chained up and looking all decrepit made me smile.

Why are you fucking with me?

Dunkin Donuts has this great new lite and fit and whatever they call it menu where things are 300 calories or less. Starbucks? I walk up to the sign that says "here are some tasty choices that you can feel really good about" and the mother fucker is empty! EMPTY! I just froze and stared. Blank-faced. Increduled, I left - buying nothing.

"HOLY COW" - Phil Rizutto

I'm sorry - this one made me laugh. And I can't WAIT to get JADED's reaction. That marketing campaign was riddled with potential, but I've not seen anything since. I mean, TONS of potential.

There's someone for everyone

Decrepit bike was still there when I went back out for a smoke a little bit later. This time, with a friend. *cue porn music*

(I especially like the two dudes I caught walking across the street as if away from their bikes. And they're strolling touch-close ... which warms my heart ... from laughing so hard)

NO PIC AND NO ETHICS

I can't seem to get work done - and it's not for blogging, because you know I haven't been around much. This process they've got at work is SO inefficient and stupid ... I spent three times as much effort getting things done and then twice THAT amount trying to devise a new process that will work. I'm almost there - 60 more days and this god forsaken process will be OVER.

Until then, I've decided that I need a small Malaysian kid to work for me and help me get this stuff off my desk. S/he would have to hide somewhere in my office and come out ONLY when no one was looking. I'd totally pay $0.02 cents per hour. If s/he gets caught, I get to kick him/her in the face. Fuck ethics - we're in a RECESSION.

There's TOTALLY gotta be a Web site for that, right?