JACK's Gay Chronicles

JGC II?

2010-10-15T00:11:00.002-04:00

I may be at whits end - although JACK was so much more neurotic than is the real me ... I've got to admit, he had a lot more fun.

Am I tired of the straight and narrow? I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just being moody ...

Or maybe I just need a good dickin' down from the next nigga that strolls on by. I could duck into the alley with him, get it like I need it ... make him give it to me AGAIN ... and send him away with sweat on his brow, his sweat pants askew and with a little stutter.

A temporary one, of course.

And then JACK can go away like Jason in the hockey mask does, only to rear his ugly head again periodically and confuse people as to why he just won't die ...

Post 325: Eulogizing JACK

2010-05-02T19:31:00.002-04:00

Please continue to follow the spirit of JACK into The Refined Ghetto - but first, from the desk of The Jaded Nyer, the following:

Friends, Bloggers, Lurkers. It is with great sorrow that we gather here today to mourn the loss of our beloved friend Jack of Jack's Gay Chronicles. It is a day I feared would come and in fact has come too soon. But let us not mourn too long for Jack's death has made a way for Alex's birth; the true embodiment of the concept Mufasa taught us in the Lion King... the circle of life...

George Bernard Shaw once said: Death is for many of us the gate of hell; but we are inside on the way out, not outside on the way in.

And I think that was true of Jack. He was, in a way, in a hell of his own making, hiding behind the words on the screen, never really able to be out in the open. Never really free. I remember his frustration at not being able to say what he really wanted to say sometimes, and wishing I could say it for him because dammit- it needed to be said.

But now that he's free from the shackles and able to cut a fool down in that great big blog in the sky, I know that his pain is over. He is no longer silenced. He is no longer hidden. The emperor, my friends, has no clothes and frankly- he don't give a fuck.

I am sad to see my friend go; we had many a good time together. Threatened many a blogger together. Made fun of so many people together. Plotted against so many idiots together. And I am fearful that those days might never return.

However I will only mourn a day or two, for in my heart I realize that while Jack was the bees' knees, Alex is, in fact, the cat's pajamas. And the knowledge of that will comfort me every time I log on to the internet.

Fare thee well Jack, my love. May the gods of cyberspace serve you all the Captain Morgan your little liver can stand. I'll miss you.

******************

Dying to be JACK

2010-04-11T15:07:00.001-04:00

I think JACK has served his purpose and it may be time for him to be laid to rest. I'm tinkering with another blog template to continue blogging, however. I'm just going to come out of the blogger closet and be me and let JACK fall back.

So, stay tuned ......

(Another) Playa with no game

2010-04-09T09:44:00.002-04:00

My fucking phone woke me up this morning, beeping. A damn text. Ugh! So, I read:

"You were great in the shower last night. ;-)"

... from a number I don't recognize.

"Ummm ... hate to break it to you, but I've no idea who you are."

... and as I try to go back to sleep ...

"sorry"

Lessons Learned:
1) Apparently, I make good decisions about which niggas to erase from my phone
2) Apparently, he does not

Taking Advantage

2010-04-08T13:48:00.004-04:00

In June of last year, my job laid off 1/3 of the staff. It meant I inherited a shitload of job responsibilities and a slew of promises to promote me and adjust my salary.

I took over all of the director's responsibility, since he was laid off, and that of his part time admin, who was also laid off. I kept 90% of my own job responsibilities.

I sat through director's meetings, both on site and off site.

I created the 2010 budget for the department, and sat through all budget meetings with the board of directors.

I closed 2009 in the black - 15% ahead of projections.

And today - while out to lunch with the President I made it clear that I'm not having it any more. I just got back from that lunch and I feel lighter. I was professional, of course, and told him that I appreciated his telling me how valuable I am and detailing for me what great skills I have.

"I know that to be true - I have all that to offer and more. But the organization's actions to date have communicated otherwise. And that troubles me."

He said he understood, said he didn't want to lose me as an employee and blah blah blah.

"We've had these meetings since before our office move, since November. We've discussed the job, the job title, the fact that there would be a salary adjustment ... but never with any specifics. The only real specifics I have right now is this here job description ... but I wrote it, I sent it to you and we're here because I asked."

He mentioned that he had wanted to wait to announce all the organization changes at the same time and it seemed that he allowed me to get caught up in all the delays occurring elsewhere with hiring a new managing director in a different unit.

"I understand that. But at the same time, I want to make it clear that this is a significant issue for me as an employee of this company."

"I hear you loud and clear. I'll make it up to you - and soon."

"Ok," I said with a professional smile, and secretly thinking "babies have been conceived and birthed since you first said that to me"

So - if I end up jobless, blog family - you know why: My Mouth. (for not letting my job take advantage of me like they want to continue to do)

(I'm seriously clearing my life of bullshit, though - I am in a good place mentally and I refuse to have mended that area of my life only to give up the ghost emotionally. I can't be bothered.)

(Incidentally, I have indeed been sending out resumes since November. I didn't do it completely whimsically)

Blessed with Friends

2010-04-07T16:30:00.004-04:00

There's nothing new on the FB Social Experiment, so I thought I'd share today. It's been a rough day for me, emotionally. I've been in a funk for a hot minute and have been pensive for much of the last 7 days. And it has all unraveled for me in my head, thanks to two of the best fag hags, I mean girlfriends, in the entire world.

That JADED - she's top notch, I swear. I told this bitch I was all emotionally worn out, you know like to the point of tears because there's just not fucking much else you can do. Well, I suppose I could punch a wall or some random passerby, but a) I'm too cute to have bloodied up knuckles and b) I don't really fight and when I have to it's rarely clean (I'm 5'6" dammit! In the hood that meant scrappy - so [hear Della Reese for me] - I like to throw garbage cans at people.

I digressed, as I'm wont to do. But this bitch was all up my craw about the tears business. Cry? She asked me. "Deal with it and move on!" Thank God it was via text because I didn't need all that yelled in my hear. As it was, I could totally hear her tone right there in black and white!

Then there's my gurl in Indy. Lunch is a date on the 14th, she wrote - Mark Your Calendar! The first day I get to Indy and she's ready for me. That's right girl. We'll meet for real. And all those other things she texted me to encourage me? Priceless.

In the overall scheme of things - I've got true friends. Between the two of them, we're talking upwards of 20 years, bitches. And I really am grateful they're there to keep me in check when I'm about to lose my Got Damn mind.

News in a somewhat related area, I've been upset with a friend of mine for some time now. He and his man had a falling out and I had some real issues with how he dealt with me at the time. To be clear, he and I were friends before he met his man and at one point he was referring to me as his BFF. But when shit got real crazy for him, he was ghost. Didn't communicate with me at all ...

I was worried as hell - wondering what he was really doing and if he was truly ok. He would only intermittently respond to my emails or texts, and never took my calls. I felt snubbed, especially when I realized that he was obviously speaking to other friends via FB. I've watched his other friendships flourish and I've been conflicted.

I'm truly glad he's ok - has people around him and that he isn't in self-imposed solitary confinement. But at the same time, exactly what the fuck happened that I don't get to take part in his healing process? I felt that I earned the right as his friend to be there for him. And yes, I said that correctly - friendship is a privilege and I'm not interested in the type of friendship that is only ok when times are good. I can be there when shit hits the fan too.

I haven't heard his voice in many months and although we've discussed things via text - he knows I'm upset. And have been upset. I suppose I thought our friendship had surpassed that phase where you're selective with what you share - but I've grasped that apparently it hadn't. At least not on his end. It's been hard to accept, but I've reached the acceptance phase.

In other areas, however - not so much. In some places, still in mourning - in others, in denial. But my ride-or-die bitches are quick to make sure I'm in no way confused about where I'm at with the so-and-so issue.

And for that, I am truly grateful. (And I'm grateful for the extended warranty I bought on the Audi because it's currently getting $4,000 worth of work done for $375 - praise JeSUSSSS!)

Chinese (Dominican/Puerto Rican) Experiment - TAKE II

2010-04-06T23:11:00.002-04:00

I flipped the script on JADED today. She threatened to make the switch to our FB faux relationship to "it's complicated." Instead, and sneakily, I made the change.

Interesting thing here - it told me that she needed to confirm the status of the relationship, but as soon as I changed it my profile said "it's complicated." Didn't bother waiting for her to confirm it. And then, within minutes, our text exchange:

I'm NOT confirming that we are in a complicated relationship. I REFUSE! How dare you, carajo?! Don't you know who I am? You think you can do BETTER?

Mine says complicated. I don't care what you do.

*sobs* How can you humiliate me like this?!? ON FACEBOOK?!?

Who's this?

MIRA CARAJO!

JACK's COMMENTARY
It's funny how that in real life, one person can decide a relationship is complicated and it just is. I mean, I might think everything is fine but if my man is struggling with it - then it's complicated. But, really - what the fuck does that mean? A Complicated Relationship.

What *IS* a complicated relationship? I've always thought it was pretty cut and dry. Relationships are riddled with ups and downs ... what's so complicated?

Any thoughts?

Chinese (Dominican/Puerto Rican) Experiment

2010-04-05T14:12:00.003-04:00

It's sad but true - we've been single since before FaceBook. And since FB has been the medium of choice for starting, complicating and announce the end of relationships - Jaded and I have embarked on a journey .... we're officially in a FB relationship. And this is what we've learned so far:

You can't just be in a relationship with just anybody. They have to actually confirm that they know you. FB said I had a "relationship request." When I clicked it, it asked: Would you like to confirm your relationship with Raquel? I confirmed, although we both wonder what would happen if I ignored the request. (But that wouldn't facilitate this CDPR Experiment)

I suppose this is kind of like real life, in that you do kinda have to ask someone to be your girlfriend or boyfriend - I mean, you at least have to have the discussion ... I'm glad to see that hasn't changed. Like, in my day - you asked someone to dance ... and nowadays, you simply have to see someone dancing and that apparently means you can bump your dick against his/her ass and sway in time. But FB confirms that the idea of having to ask someone to be in a relationship with you is still alive today. That's good to know.

The people that know us well are completely baffled by our announcement in FB. Others who know us both are reluctantly (and ingenuously) thanking God we're off the market. (Dumb asses)

Apparently, it's still commonplace for people to be plastic and smile all up in your face(book) about shit ... I really wish that weren't true, but alas - it is. OH! And dumbasses still exist - but we already knew that.

Next on our list is to figure out what happens when you try to be in multiple relationships at the same time. I'll give the details in my next post - but first I have to find someone who is willing to let me try to "Relationship" them on FB without it being weird or anything.

ta ta for now

the softer side of JACK

2010-04-03T22:02:00.004-04:00

Winter Lovers

Sent from the sky above
a snowflake drifts along
slowly
seeking a final resting place
and lands on his lash
gently
His lover sees it sitting there
and leans on in to kiss it
softly
I close my eyes as he closes in
and feel his lips
warmly
melting away the frost
that dissolves and tracks down my cheek
sweetly
and there in three-quarter length coats
made of gray cashmere and wool
lovingly
we hold leather gloved hands
and stare into each others' eyes
deeply
until it doesn't feel like it's cold at all

Damn Drag Queens

2010-03-29T20:49:00.001-04:00

Memphis Bitches Don't Play

Chicago Bitches Don't Neither

(For the record, I know someone who rides the Red line to that Jarvis stop. Mhmm - I'm looking at you ...)

And for your viewing pleasure ...

Interesting Things

2010-03-26T22:55:00.003-04:00

I had to write down three things I like about myself because Jaded's blog said to - and I realized that I really like my gray hair. I really do. It's been there for a while and I am quite attached to it. *grin*

I got an email out of the blue at work from an old college friend. She and I were mad tight back in the day - she didn't make it, leaving after Sophomore year, and I went on to graduate. We lost touch, after trying half-heartedly not to, and now she's emailed me. We're planning on chatting tomorrow. Should be a good time catching up.

Watched "Cloudy with a chance of meatballs" with the kids tonight - it was cute, but I didn't really like it all that much. However, there's this Black cop in the movie whose dad tells him he love him and the kid says, "Dad, you tell me you love me ALL the time!" as excitedly as he can. My kids, almost simultaneously, say to me - you do, too daddy! That made my night.

I've lost 4 pounds this week. Went to the gym 5 times in 7 days, and have been watching what I eat, cutting out all that late night snacking crap. A good friend motivated me and I think it's sticking this time. (And when I say motivated, I mean he worked me out two days in a row and it hurt to move for the whole fucking week)

My daughter forgot her homework at school - and I realized that I needed to have her mother call other parents and find out what the homework was. It's a big project to do internet research and I don't live in their school district and don't know any of the other parents. Anyway, the child was mortified at having to tell her mom that she left her folder at school because "mom doesn't like it when I leave my homework at school."

It was all good until she asked me to wait and not tell mom until we saw if the teacher responded to the email I sent. At that point, the dynamic changed - I told her that mommy and daddy don't keep secrets and that we had to really talk about what was the right thing to do. 35 minutes and lots of tears later - she calls her mom and tells her. It all worked out ok - and baby girl ended up telling me "I feel better"

Why one of my friends was over here with her 3 year old and left him with me while she ran home for a bit ... and that was 3+ hours ago?!? She just called and said she's on her way. I guess I should go into the other room now. I just needed some adult time - it's been me and three kids for THREE HOURS! lol

No really does mean .... NO

2010-03-25T14:10:00.003-04:00

Last week I got this text message from a dude:

"I don't know what I did wrong, but I can't do anything about it if you're not communicating with me."

I had not spoken to him in a while, but the last time we had spoken, he was trying to get me to phone bone or have text sex or so whatever. Clearly, dude has gone off the deep end, since I did already CLEARLY explained that I was not doing casual sex and that I wasn't interested in this nonsense. So, I ended that interaction abruptly and a while later I get a text pic of his finale.

I've not acknowledged him at all since. No responses to IM's, to texts, to his phone calls. And - yes, I'm clear that he has a mini-obsession thing going on, but it's not my problem. It really isn't. When I tell the mutha fucka that I'm not interested in casual sex and that that phase is truly behind me ... that I really am not looking for JUST sex, so casual sex is just not really an option because that's all casual sex is (it's JUST sex) ... the mutha fucker should NOT be talking about, "that just made you so much hotter."

He's obviously not listening to me. That, or he thinks he's God's gift to gay men and that he can wear me down. And if it's the latter, then he CLEARLY doesn't know me. When I done made up my mind, it's set. Like concrete.

Today I get a text from this other brutha - a kid, really. A decade my junior and trying to holla for a couple of years now. Whatever, he comes out of the woodworks when it's convenient for him ... we exchange niceties and then he disappears again. Today?

"I'm just bored in class. What's new?"

"Fool, pay attention!"

"I usually do - but today is boring"

"Bad Student!"

"You should punish me :-)"

"How do you think I should go about doing THAT?"

"You can figure that our - I know yr a freak"

"Actually, I'm not - it's 3+ months since I took that vow of celibacy"

"But why? You're a hot boi"

WTF! When I say that I'm not doing the casual sex bit ... the response should not be a reference to how hot you think I am, dammit! I don't give a got damn - ok? Listen closely - NOOOTTTT DOOOOIIIINNNNNGGGG IIIIITTTTTTTT

Acceptable responses include, but are not limited to:

"oh, cool - I didn't know"
"Well, go on witcha bad self"
"Peace"
"How long has it been? That's great"
"For real?! YOU?!? LOL" (cuz I can take a joke - but eventually, one of the aforementioned acceptable responses must follow)

Seriously, folks - if we're not dating, we're not fucking. (period)

Y YA!

The Second Best Dad

2010-03-23T18:19:00.002-04:00

My Daughter (unprompted): Daddy, you know what? You're the second best dad in the whole wide world!

JACK: Is that right?

My Daughter: Yes - because God is the best daddy - and then YOU!

That is all.

Happy to play second fiddle to the Lord,

JACK

I know stupid when I see it

2010-03-19T23:09:00.013-04:00

It's been a long time since JACK's Camera made an appearance around these parts and I bet you thought JACK had actually put his camera away, stopped taking pictures of things and people and perhaps he had actually stopped invading people's privacy by not only taking pictures of them without their permission, but posting them on the internets for everyone under the sun, moon and clouds to see. But I didn't. Instead, I've been collecting

Take I
I think it was those Japanese food places at the mall food courts that started this trend by shoving Bourbon Chicken in your face in those little white cups for you to sample and come back fiendishly looking to make a buy. But look closely here:

THIS bitch wants you to sample cat food.
(and, no, this wasn't Petsmart!)

Take II
After one of my hookups some time ago (it was Fall of 08, I think!), I left his apartment all wobbly in the legs because, let me tell ya, it was GOOD. And there on the corner ... was THIS place:

Totally stupid name, but this one made my day.
(Ok, actually, the dude did - but this was close second. Well, second.)

Take III
Before my current job moved, and when I was smoking, this was where I would go for my smoke breaks. It was easy to just chill in the parking garage because it's outdoors and there's a roof! Bonus.

But clearly if you're a jumper, they want you to be at least on the third floor. I think there's maybe liability if you survive the fall.

Take IV
It was really hot that day.

But, seriously? No one at the bank can get this shit right? It's NUMBERS, dammit!

Take V
Chicago weather can toy with the extremes.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Take VI

Now, I really appreciate construction signs. I really do. The last thing I want to do is be driving along, minding my own business and then have some kids daddy land on my windshield because I didn't know he was going to be there around the bend holding a SLOW sign.

But who the FUCK put this shit up? I mean, exactly what? Huh? Where?! Look, just tell me who the fuck did this - because THAT mother fucker I wanna run over.

TAKE VII

New York City. Circa a few months ago. I'm driving my rental when suddenly something tells me that may I really SHOULD have purchased that "walk away" insurance from Avis.

No, but really - aren't there schools where you practice on a closed course to get a CDL? I didn't even know thes signs CAME this big. I wonder if they make them big enough for airliners.

TAKE VII

Sometimes, however, I feel like stupidity is there to remind me that things could be oh so much worse for me. Like, fine - I'm single, I'm stressed a lot, I usually always tired from running so hard all the time ... but, I don't do shit like this

Clearly, there are no gay men on THIS marketing team.
(ooorrrr maYYYYbe there ARE - and this might just be sheer brilliance! Cuz I want one now)

TAKE IX - MY FAVORITE

Nigga, PLEASE get your big, dumb black ass out of the Walmart shopping cart and wait in line properly like the rest of us. DAMN!

Please, oh please, oh please, oh PLEASE

2010-03-15T14:20:00.004-04:00

It looks like this thing will eventually become reality. I do love Chicago, the big city feel and the hustle and bustle and the big buildings and the "I'm so alive" feeling. But, being here and not LIVING here is a pain in the dick. I mean, I can't tell you how much money I shell out for the privilege of owning a house in Indianapolis and renting a room in Chicago and driving back and forth between the two.

Indianapolis is pretty in its own right, and although I don't particularly like it there as much as I like it in Chicago - that's where my babies are and I need to come on back home.

I have been sending out resumes for several weeks now, a few of them just yesterday. It looks good that I'll get an interview with my alma mater (I'm listed as "interviewing" in my candidate profile, even though they haven't called me) and just today I received two phone calls for two other positions. I'm praying I get at least one job offer out of this and I'm posting to ask my blog family to hope, pray, meditate or whatever it is you happen to do ... and hope, pray, meditate or whatever my way there.

Keeping my fingers crossed,

JACK

My Baby Black As Hell

2010-03-14T01:48:00.003-05:00

So, there we are - watching the Disney Channel. It's That's So Raven. In this episode, Raven has a vision she's dancing with some hot dude at the prom. So, she turns down everyone who asks her for being "not him."

Anyway, it turns out that she's all dressed up and still has no date - so her father dresses up in a tuxedo and offers to take her. She turns him down saying she just needs to suck it up and go with her friends.

(She gets stuck in the moon roof of the limo - a blast from the past ex shows up - they dance in the gas station parking lot and blah blah blah)

So, afterwards, I say to my 8 YEAR OLD daughter:

"You're gonna have ME take you to your prom, right? Cuz you're my baby girl"

She responds, without giving it so much as a thought, saying "nobody said you could ruin my teenage years."

I *promise* you that's her momma right there ... right the fuck thurrr, that's her mommma!!

(I mean I didn't expect a yes - but I didn't expect a "get the fuck out my face, daddy," neither)

My New Idol

2010-03-09T23:15:00.001-05:00

Momma don't know best

2010-03-08T23:28:00.002-05:00

Momma Don't Change
It happened one day when I was talking to a friend of mine about random guy things. I was married then and he and his girlfriend were visiting - I lay on the couch and he lay on the floor and we spoke into the dark. He asked about my mother and I got to talking when these words spewed out of my mouth, "I love my mother, but I don't particularly like her." I stunned myself - and was grateful to find out that as I spoke those words, my friend drifted off to sleep, having never heard me say them - but I couldn't forget then and it fucked with my head so much that I went to see a counselor about it. Did I really not like momma?

You might think I'm on some bullshit when I say, quite candidly and rather smugly, that my mother is off her fuckin' rocker. The bitch will completely and totally point at me and laugh her ass off, and growing up she did that a lot. She's got bats in her belfry for real - she initiates gossip about me throughout the family as if I'm some off-the-street trashy nigga.

She's just plain 'ole certifiable. But I'm not on some rant about how annoyed I am at her - for I've really come to accept that she is who she is and that despite how I feel about it she's going to continue being who she is. If nothing else, those counseling sessions helped me realize that I can't change her and her gossipy ways and that the only thing I could change was me - so I accepted that my momma just crazy, ya' - crazy. I don't like the crazy, but I do love her crazy ass.

Momma Don't want no Gay
I've toyed with the idea of coming out to her, but I realize that every time we broach the subject, she shuts down. She is in some serious denial. But she knows - she just doesn't WANT me to be gay - so if I don't admit it, then it's not so - but she knows. (This the crazy JACK momma logic)

Once in college I was arguing on the phone with my boyfriend - although he was the one I wanted, I was confused and was sort of simultaneously talking to the woman who would eventually become my ex-wife. Anyway, after that call, mom asked me if everything was alright. I said yes, ma.

"You fighting?"

"Yes, ma - but it's fine"

and as I walk away she said, "is it with a man or with a woman?"

I turned back to her and looked her squarely in the eye, "both."

She turned away from me and distracted herself with some crossword of hers.

I still remember the blank stare I got before she turned away from me - she was utterly shocked ... in a mortified sort of way, not in a surprised sort of way.

Momma don't want no faggot
Another time, after my divorce, I was hooking up with this dude who was going to pick me up. I was in NYC visiting mom and that's where he was going to pick me up.

"I hope you're not getting into that faggot shit," she said to me.

I looked her squarely in the eye, "Why not?!"

She stared at me and then cut her eyes to distract herself with yet another fucking crossword puzzle book. No more talk - no more acknowledgment. End of discussion.

But she told me a lot by calling it "faggot" shit and refusing to acknowledge me ... we're cool as long as I'm not gay.

Momma will make up some SHIT
I could fill volumes with the nonsense my momma will make up - but today's edition takes the cake. You will NOT believe the nonsense my own mother is perpetuating in the family. It's likely the most ridiculous "my son ain't gay, dammit!" pounding of the chest nonsense you done ever heard. You ready?

My cousin (female) called to tell me that our aunt (my mother's sister) told her that my mother told HER ... (you following?) ... that she's convinced that my cousin (female) and I are lovers.

Yes, folks - incest is better than homosexuality - just ask my momma.

Suck the Shine off Dem Lips

2010-03-05T19:27:00.004-05:00

So, my lips have been screaming for the winter to go the fuck away and for some humidity to come on back into the air - so I've got m carmex. I'm on a date last night and put some on - I ask him if my lips are shiny cuz I don't want them all shiny. He said it didn't matter because he'd suck the shine off my lips if he had to.

Really? Ok - so, I was at work today and .... blah blah blah

Look folks, I wasn't kidding about my not being into no fuckin and suckin and frottagin' and all dat. I'm not sure where my libido is, but it's off in some far away brush hiding from me. And I'm not out looking for it.

I made that clear when he and I began to speak - of course, we met online. So, of course, I didn't have my hopes in the rafters over the date, but it was a fun change to an otherwise mundane schedule of work, train, home - work, train, home. So, I went and for all intents and purposes things went fairly well.

Weird.

I didn't see any sparks or anything - but I'm glad to have gone out and met him and to listen to him speak as opposed to reading him text. I'm not sure what the shiny lip comment was about, but I think he got the message when I acknowledged he said it and kept it moving into other areas. He didn't disrespect me, he didn't try to touch me or get me home or anything. It ended with a kiss goodbye that was really just a peck on the lips and nothing really extraordinarily ridiculous ...

I done tole you how I once accidentally blew a drag queen - I'm not taking ya' mother fuckers at face value anymore ... any queen in heels can kick off her shoes and put on some Nikes and a pair of baggy jeans. But I'm (mostly) sure this one doesn't moonlight in hosiery.

Whatever - I'm just glad I'm able to date without getting cum in my hair.

Children ...

2010-02-28T11:58:00.003-05:00

I maintain a great relationship with my ex-in laws. The ex-wife and I are on decent terms, somewhat reminiscent of how we were when we were best friends in college, before we made the ridiculous decision to get married and act straight. My ex mother-in-law is on of my aces. My brother- and sister- in law, not quite as tight - but we're family.

My sister-in-law? I'm needing someone to punch her in her goddamn face. She had a kid with her boyfriend two years ago ... and since then they've broken up and he's seeing someone else. Clearly she went through with having the kid in order to keep him - she's absolutely obsessed with this man, who has hit her and cursed her out in front of the kid.

Yet - she still wants him. Once she asked me for this song on CD, and I knoew that I knew that I KNEW that she was pining for her baby daddy again:

So, the mother-in-law and sister-in-law (they would be mother and daughter - keep up) have had a falling out over how she is raising this boy. She doesn't pay him ay mind, is always on the phone and when she DOES pay him mind, she's raising her voice at him. When she's not yelling at him or ignoring him, she's looking for a baby sitter.

At one point, Child Protection services was involved - medical neglect. She had this boy with pneumonia and three separate family members told her to take the kids to the ER. Three days went by and she still hadn't gone. Enter Child Protection - she took him to the ER right then ... he was admitted. Her case was eventually closed, although not without her piss testing every week and having in-home counselor meetings ... she did it, though.

She's back to her old habits again though - the kid is 2 now and is constantly back and forth. Grandma (the mother-in-law) asked me to pick him up and bring him to her because she wants to spend time with her grandson but at this point doesn't want anything to do with the daughter. Ok, whatever - I go.

But I have to go to the baby daddy's new girlfriend's house. Right - momma didn't have the baby. Neither did daddy, cuz he was working. This child was with his non-custodial parent's girlfriend ... without diapers, wipes, food - with nothing. And momma dropped him off 4+ days earlier. He was still wearing the same clothes.

I go to a second hand store and buy two outfits and two set of PJs. I go to Walmart and buy a car seat, diapers and wipes. And I go get this baby. He sees me and right there in the middle of the street he wraps his 2-year old arms around my neck and squeezes ... and doesn't let go.

I hugged him and loved on him right there in front of God and everyone ... and when he realized he was getting in the car with me ... he was game. My kids received him excitedly and he's been with us the weekend.

He's hugged up on me all the time - he's not been yelling or screaming, or been yelled or screamed at. He's been 100% obedient to the word NO and hasn't been a lick of trouble. He's eaten sporadically, so I've left cheerios and such all around the house in bowls and I've seen him picking at it throughout the days. His appetite will pick up when it does. You don't make a 2-year old eat - when he's ready ... he'll eat you out of house and home. So, I'll be patient.

Here's some advice from JACK:

If you are gonna have a baby because you think it's good for your relationship - chances are your relationship sucks and you need to end it.
The baby likely needs to go too.
Two words: birth control
Three words, in case number 3 doesn't work: Morning After Pill.
If you call CPS on a family member, it will never ever quite be the same again. But that should never dissuade you from doing it - it's all about the child.
If you choose to have a kid - you no longer matter.
If you still want to matter - see number 2
Don't nobody want to raise a grown-up. If your ass isn't out on your own, get the fuck out there on your own. I'm tired of grown ass mother fuckers leeching off of their parents, or grandparents, or the system or what have you. This is especially true if you have children. If you aren't yet living on your own and find yourself pregnant - see number 2.
If you have children and are doing drugs - keep that information away from JACK. I'll totally report you.

I firmly believe that in the last week, the sister-in-law is on one binge or another. If she's drugging or drinking or fucking ... I don't know. But it's a binge. And if you read number 9 above - I don't have to tell you that I'm calling child protection services ....

AGAIN.
_________________________________________
Mother fuckers want to forget what it was like to be a kid in a dysfunctional environment - still fucking thinking they're the center of the universe and that the world somehow owes them an adult life free of responsibilities because their childhood sucked. Mother fuckers, please - I will put my childhood up against any body else's fucked up nonsense ... why the fuck do we want to continue the cycle? Why do we want to put our own children through shit we went through ourselves? WHY - when we have so many more options at our disposal than any generation had before us. Fuck you. Just fuckin' FUCK you.

100 Percenter

2010-02-25T22:33:00.003-05:00

I've taken to doing some self talk - because, quite frankly, there's just a lot of nonsense out there. And I can really get pissed off in a hot minute ... ok? And no one's gonna control that shit if I don't.

Like today - when my boss pissed me off to no end. I find myself constantly picking up the pieces for him, and foreshadowing shit for him and trying to help him stay ahead of shit because in the end it all falls on me anyway. I'm really tired of it - and today I was at wits end and I could feel the tears welling up behind my eyes.

But, my mantra: He did not give me my joy ... and he cannot take it away.

That's it - I work too hard to let another man have my joy. Hell no. Whether in business, in life, in love ...

Ain't no man give me my joy - and can't no man take it away.

I've got me a plan and I"m sticking to the plan and I'm giving it my all ... had a little boo hoo time, Y YA! I'm over it. It's behind me - back to the plan. 52 days without a cigarette. The rest of my life yet to go ...

Why I gave up my vices

2010-02-23T23:48:00.003-05:00

OK, so no casual sex and I quit smoking. And in light of the last 7 days or so (and if you've been reading my blog, you know it's been a mess), I decided to bring some levity back to JGC. And that means, I'm fessing up about the real reasons I decided to drape on that wholesomeness cloak.

Smoking was fucking with my head. I was constantly telling myself it was the last cigarette and I was getting more and more angry with myself for not being able to quit.

I was a phlegm factory and constantly dealing with head colds and shit and that just doesn't make sense. I felt like I kept putting my hand on the stove, getting burned ... and doing it again. Lunacy.

Casual sex wasn't getting me anywhere - and all it was giving me was a complex. Getting tested every six months is stressful, plain and simple.

Then there was that time I accidentally blew a drag queen.

The best sex I've had in the last two years was with a brutha who was so damn high he has no idea who I am. No, like ... seriously - he hits me up a couple weeks ago on adam and introduces himself like we've never met.

Actually, wait - that wasn't the best sex. The best sex was with this other brutha I don't speak to anymore either ... who met someone after we hooked up and decided to pursue something with him. But who isn't out and doesn't want anyone to know where he lives.

Did I mention I inadvertantly blew a drag queen?

Today I hit up another brutha I had been messing with because I haven't heard from him. I knew he had gotten laid off and I wanted to see how he was doing. He moved to DC for a job. After I congratulated him, he told me he was coming back to town and I was going to help him pack and move. "No, I'm not."

All in all - casual sex and smoking were fucking with my head. And look folks - I'm a crazy mfer. I hold it together pretty well, but I really am one neurotic son of a bitch. The last thing I needed was to continue to do things that were fucking up my very frail psyche.

Reality is that I conducted an inventory of ME ... and I found the shelves empty and the racks half full. Seriously, who's going to invest in me if I'M not ... right?

It's been 7 weeks since I've had a cigarette. 9 weeks since I've fucked around.

And you know what? I've actually been able to better focus on my job search ... I've got 8 resumes out there, all to very pertinent jobs, all with customized resumes and cover letters ...

... because I need to just get back home and stop all this driving nonsense. JACK's not found much in Chicago worth staying for ... just a bunch nonsense ...

... and a drag queen with a big dick.

Funeral Hell

2010-02-22T00:27:00.003-05:00

Why do families need to lose their minds when someone dies? See, I'm not questioning the fact that it is so - because I don't know a funeral that didn't result in some drama - but I'm questioning why it has to be that way?

In my previous melancholic post about my cousin's passing, I detailed the depravity shown by someone who sets a gun to a man's temple while he holds his 6-month old. That's the fate my cousin found. It was truly sad.

So, the family goes into high gear trying to figure out how to get his remains back into the states, since he passed away in Mexico. And I swear to God, I was about to find some fence climber and just ask him to strap my cousin's corpse to his back and bring him on home ... that would have been easier. For real, for real - all jokes aside - that shit would have been easier.

So, long story short - after some considerable difficulty, my cousin gets her brother home.

[enter mother fuckers no one even knows claiming to be his kin and wanting to run shit]

Fucking Crazy.

But I would like to put one particular cousin on blast - the deceased's brother. We'll call him MFA, for mother fucking asshole.

MFA's one responsibility was to house the deceased's common-law wife and two kids. (That would be his own sister-in-law, neice and nephew) The kids are 5 and 6-months. The 6-month old being the one who witnessed the whole murder. Ok - so, why the fuck does this MFA show up to the funeral home with his sister-in-law, niece and nephew talking about he can't afford to keep them anymore and someone has to take them?

What!? Lemme tell you - transporting a body from Mexico to the USA is NOT cheap. Paying for a viewing ... is NOT cheap. Getting family in to NYC from all over the country (Chicago, Orlando, DC, NC, et. al) is NOT cheap. And all the fuck this nigga had to do was keep this woman for a few days.

Nope. It's noon. He's at the funeral with this bitch and her two kids talking about all he has is $60 to his name and he hasn't even fed these people! Homegirl is nursing the 6-month old and she hasn't eaten a thing.

[enter pissed off JACK]

I had to let him know that he's an asshole. I had to let him know that I didn't give a fuck about his dead brother at this point. Because my dead cousin wouldn't want us spending money to mourn over there at the funeral parlor while his wife and kids went without food and shelter.

I told him that if I were to die, I didn't want NAN-UH ONE UH DEM anywhere near my funeral - I'd prefer strangers deal with me and my kids and figure out what to do because this shit is crazy. Who the fuck does this?!?

He stuttered and shit and tried to explain that this and that that and that the other thing ... I had to shut him down again and again and again. I put the woman up in a hotel, we all made sure she got something to eat and for the next few days, MFA didn't say a word to me and I didn't even acknowledge his existence. Seriously, MFA is dead to me.

Oh, did I fail to mention that MFA threatened her with legal action if she didn't release the deceased's body to the family? Oh, yuh - he did that.

Oh, and that MFA threatened to fuck with her veteran's death benefits if she didn't release the deceased's body to the family? Riggghhhtttt ....

and then he gets her to the states and puts her out.

He's dead to me. For real, for real - I've got nothing to say to that man ever again. Simply unforgivable.

(and let me tell you - this is the very, very, VERY short version - I'll spare you all the sordid details ....)

-JACK

When Men Play God

2010-02-13T21:57:00.003-05:00

A Mexican newspaper published this photo. Underneath the sheet? My cousin. May he rest in peace.

I've been really down this week. I didn't really know him, since he was about 16 when I was born and way out the house by the time I had my first memory of living with my aunt and uncle. But, yeah, his father and step-mother raised me and his siblings, with whom I was raised, are in mourning.

I'm kinda down over it, in a depressive mode even, but I can hardly say that I am experiencing anything near what my cousins are feeling. After all, they knew him. But I can't shake this sadness myself - and what I really want to do is be near my cousin in VA and just be there for her. It bothers me that I can't do that either.

What happened, you may be asking. And that's a good question. He was killed, execution style, outside of his daughter's school. His wife was inside dropping off their oldest. Their youngest? Another good question. Their infant was sitting on his lap.

I can't even begin to comprehend the depravity of man, that he would shoot another man while an infant sat in his lap. I mean, there was a time when kids were off limits and people respected that - no matter how "bad" they were. But seriously - to have a wife and mother come out of school to find her husband dead is bad enough ... but to find her infant in his lap covered in his blood? There's a special place in hell for these people.

And don't get me wrong - I'm not naive to the fact that my cousin was not running around town holding down a 9-5, reading to the blind and helping old ladies cross streets. Clearly, people don't get assassinated for attending sunday school in a predominantly Catholic nation. I get that ... I really do. And I know that there are many people out there on the errant side of the law, perhaps, or on the errant side of very bad people ....

But that doesn't mean that those people don't have families who love them. It doesn't mean that those people are necessarily bad people themselves, although I suppose it's possible. But my cousin was rekindling his relationship with his family - he was trying to come around ... having established contact with his siblings and all that, exchanging I love yous and everything.

I don't know all the specifics - but I know it's fucked up to shoot a mother fucker who's holding his own child. That shit hurts me. I'm not trying to make my cousin into some angel, ok? I don't know that he was. But I do know that people loved him - and those people are hurting and it's hurting me to know that they're hurting.

I've said in an earlier post, I believe it was in my Jennifer Hudson post, that the 'no snitching' rule should come with a clause that exempts the rule from applying when children are involved. If you fuck with children, the 'no snitching' rule is out. And in this situation ... the 'no snitching' rule should SO be out.

Yet, it's not. No one saw anything. No one can describe any of the assailants. No one says anything.

Except my second cousin who cried and cried and cried as her father's soul slipped into eternity. Right in front of her.

Que Dios me lo tenga en La Gloria

Letters to Imaginary People

2010-02-09T12:38:00.008-05:00

Dear Mother Nature:

I'm really tired of your ass fucking shit up. Hurricanes, Monsoons, Earthquakes, Tsunamis ... seriously, what's up your craw? The Tsunamis taking out hundreds of thousands - that wasn't cute. But I'll give you points for originality. This thing in Haiti? Now you're just being a bitch. I'm going to need you to get your shit together, lay back on some leather couch and talk out your issues. Some Zoloft may be in order. Or Lithium ... but I'm no medical professional. I just know that you might just need a break.

So, fucking take one ... NOW.

-JACK

Dear Old Man Winter:

I'm going to need you to stroke out already. I walked 6 blocks to the train this morning with snow pelting my face, pulling behind me my roller bag ... and those fucking things don't do well in the snow. So, you had me out in the middle of the street with these dumb ass mother fuckers who can't drive on snowy pavement. And then like three feet of snow on the east coast? Seriously, you're done. Take your old ass a real long dirt nap. Maybe mother nature will no longer feel the need to compete with your ass and she can calm the fuck down too.

-JACK

Miss Tooth Fairy:

Look, Bitch - you are NOT allowed to adjust for inflation. Your ass ain't real, dammit! How the fuck a tooth worth dollars now? What happened to quarters?

I'm blaming your ass for all the dental problems in the ghetto. I mean, at $5 dollars a pop - do you know how much coke a mouth full of teeth can buy? Why in the hell would anyone want to have any when they can have dope instead?

You need to readjust this shit ... parents everywhere are just WAITIN on your ass to show up one night for real. Gon' have your wings framed and mounted, watch.

-JACK

Dear Santa:

I'm a set your ass on fire next time you come down my chimney. Do you know how many parents have had to file chapter 11 cuz of your dumb ass? I swear to GOD you're the worst of the bunch. And that stupid laugh of yours - makes me want to pop you right in the mouth. Holding your belly while you mock us as we march on down with all our paperwork to Bernstein, Weinberger, Feingold & Markowitz. I'm putting a hit on you, that's it.

WANTED: FAT, JOLLY WHITE MAN WITH A BEARD WEARING A RED SUIT AND CARRYING A GINORMOUS BAG OF PRESENTS. LAST SEEN HOLDING HIS MIDSECTION AND LAUGHING AT ME FOR HOW MUCH I SPEND ON CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY. DEAD, OR ALIVE.

-JACK

Dear Father Time:

How does your feet-shuffling, tooth-missing, ben-gay using old ass have shit moving so fast? Slow this shit down - I'm in no mother fucking hurry back to ashes and dust, ok? Fuckin 2010 already and I haven't even been to Venice! (It's on my bucket list) Next time I see you, my friends and I are going to abduct you and admit you to Shady Pines. Your ass needs a break, and some people your age to play bridge with. And if you put up a fight, just keep in mind that I'll be carrying two rolls of quarters stuffed in a sock.

-JACK

300 and Counting

2010-02-06T12:49:00.003-05:00

I made it to 300 posts! Seriously, this is the longest relationship I've ever had. *kisses JACK on the forehead*

JGC will live on and will still bring you the crazy, the funny, the camera, the caption contests (I haven't done that in a while, huh ...), the gay parenting ... etc. etc. But I will no longer be a participant in the Date-A-Hoodlum program just for JACK's writing amusement. I'm so over it.

Maybe over the next 300 posts I'll find someone decent and actually have some semblance of a normal, healthy relationship ... instead of, you know, my telling JADED that it's been over 2 months since I've had sex and her responding, "OMG - are you ok?!?"

bitch.

But seriously, I feel more centered that I've felt in a long, long time. Even though work is crazy and I want a new job (and I'm searching actively!), even though I'm still always tired from the driving back and forth between Indy and Chicago, even though I'm under the weather a bit, over weight by more than I care to admit and am struggling with this 1800 calorie diet I can't seem to be consistent with ... I feel centered.

It's amazing how outlook and attitude really trumps circumstance - it's a fact that I've known for a very long time, but (whether for the Puerto Rican, Gay or Black-by-Injection in me I do not know) I know that I've made a conscious decision to be negative and have attitude and be critical ... and you know, what? I'm through. Eh - it's too easy to be critical. Let me challenge myself and try to see the good in things and the good in life and the good in people

(and I know that last one is going to be the toughest one because by-and-by, let's be honest, some people can be some kind of fucking rotten ... but the new JACK only says that parenthetically)

We'll see - the ultimate goal is to not just FEEL centered - but BE centered. Off I go ...

My Love Story

2010-02-05T03:29:00.001-05:00

Recently, my daughter wrote on a note under the Christmas tree asking Santa "for my family to stop smoking." She went for it. before she wrote family, there's a scribbled out "da" ... She meant for DAD to stop smoking, but went all out and scratched it out in favor of family. But it was me.

There's a post-it note on my computer in her handwriting inside a heart she drew: mia + dad ... and another post-it: mia and dad sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g

She's the love of my life for real. My nickname for her is MyLoveStory and I've been calling her that for years. Today, she turns 8. And I don't care what anyone says, an 8-year old who loves her daddy and has NO idea what it means to like a boy or kiss a boy or date a boy ... that's what being an 8-year old is about. And, today I thank God for blessing me with the most perfect little 8-year old a man could ever have.

And although this Mariah song reminds me of her simply because of the title, there is one song that is forever OUR song. My song and my little girl's song. I remember when I told her it was our song and I would sing it to her while I drove. I still remember how when I sang to her and looked back at her and said "how my eyes fit in yours" and she sunk her chin into her shoulder and batted her little eyelashes at me. And yes, she will ALWAYS be my joy.

I'm certain we'll dance to this at her wedding - it's my intent. I'm sure we'll still be dancing like fools then ... like we have been for years ...

Happy birthday, my love story. I love you past the rocket ships.

Ethnic Cleansing

2010-02-03T00:41:00.003-05:00

I'm ethnic - and I'm cleanin' house. I'm tired of the nonsense. It seems that every so often I find myself needing to take stock of the world around me and decide what I want around me and what I don't.

What I want around me

Positive people who can make me laugh.
People who are about their business.
Energy that harmonizes with synergy.
Alignment of actions with words.
An empathetic heart and a sympathetic ear.
Eyes that watch God.
Talkers who listen and listeners who speak.
Dwellers, but not brooders.

What I don't want around me

Abusers of time, energy and substance
A marked focus on the trivial
Incessant spontaneity
Fear
Canoes adrift on reckless waters
Self absorption

If you find me distant, unresponsive or apathetic - you need not ask me what category you fall into. I can't be bothered right now. I feel the vibration of transition, like an incessant strum on the string of a guitar ... and I need to focus on the good.

You can keep the bad and the ugly.

In a new direction

2010-02-02T00:37:00.003-05:00

Hello fellow bloggers (and readers and stalkers and government censors, etc.)

So, there's this guy I know - let's call him Keith (cuz that's his name). We met I don't know when in 2009 and went on a date. He thought he was the most impressive thing ever. He wasn't. He really tried and tried and tried to impress me with all the people he knew in town and how many business owners he was cool with because he too was a business owner ... and I was just GAG over the whole thing. But I was in my for-the-sake-of-the-blog mode and I did end up sleeping with him. I was drunk as hell by the end of the night and I used that as an excuse. He's so not my type and I really just needed something to blog about and laugh over and all that.

But I'm so not there and haven't been for what seems like a long while. He was blowing up my phone today. Kept IM-ing me on my phone, then calling my phone and I just kept ignoring him. He called from another number and I picked up and DAMN if I wasn't mad at myself for picking up the phone. So, we get into this conversation about things, and I tell him where I stand.

I'm not really into the whole casual sex bit. I feel like there are so many things out of balance in my life and the last thing I need is to have that type of one-night-stand nonsense to add to it. I know myself to be the emotional creature that I am and I just don't want to deal with that empty feeling I know too well, the one that I get when I'm doing the walk of shame home ... or when the dude ups and leaves when we're done. My job is messy and I am looking for another, trying to take control of that situation, and this idea I have about really wanting sex to be within the confines of a relationship is about my wanting to take control back in THAT area of my life too.

I feel like I'm cleaning house - and anyway, so I tell him all of this and he talks about how he's not looking for a relationship. No shit, Sherlock - hence, my avoiding you! So, as I am explaining to him how I see things, he says, "so are there other guys besides me?"

[insert stunned silence here]

I recoup pretty fast. "Yes!" And then he goes into this spiel about my being the only one. Really? Am I supposed to believe that, really? The last time he and I did anything, it was still shorts and T-shirt weather ... and I'm to believe what, now? Spare me - I don't believe it.

But I really don't want to get into an argument about it ... so I let him talk about how he's very particular and blah blah blah. And about how great I am and how he feels we have great sex and have this connection and how I just accept him for him and how with me he's just Keith ... and not that professional, or that director, or that church minister .... or that whatever the hell else he listed.

Oh - yes ... church minister. You didn't misread that. But that's his issue - not mine. I don't give a fuck. I mean, if I'm to believe the church's doctrine as face value, as the church would have me believe it, it's bad enough he's another dude, let alone a minister - so whatever.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I don't feel any chemistry, the sex is fair to midland and I dont' find him attractive at all. I simply just listen and then tell him that we're just on different wave lengths.

I ponder all of this and I wonder if I'm just getting old, or wise or outgrowing things ... but what I do know is that this situation is a little bit sad. I don't like being in this situation, that I've created this type of thing ... that he saw fireworks when he closed his eyes and I just had my eyes closed. Kinda sucks ...

But I'm not SO mature that I'm not glad that I'm on this side of the imbalance. I fucking HATE being into someone who isn't so into me.

But, then - I'm in that situation too. *shrug* (another issue entirely)

At some point, I'm going to have to find someone I like who happens to also like me. Of course, that's everyone's goal ... but for me personally, I feel I need to stop having sex for sex's sake.

Check with me in 45 days time and let's see if I still feel the same way or if I've given in to carnality and climbed a nigga or three.

-JACK

Chirrun'

2010-01-30T22:53:00.001-05:00

I heard these words that did not please me. I thought I was going to lose my got-dam mind.

My daughter: Trevon said I'm hot.

Seven. She's 7 mother fuckin years old. So I asked her what that meant and she said "I don't know." Yeah - whatever. I went into a diatribe about how (the proverbial) "they" don't understand what they are talking about and they're using words they have no business using and blah blah blah

But I didn't say it - Trevon did.

She might be the apple of my eye, but I ain't stupid. I went on and on and on about how she can be pretty all day long, but it matters none if she ain't got nuthin in her head and can't figure out her school work and blah blah blah.

He also said he was gonna beat the crap out of Maria

Although I have met said Maria and believe she could use an ass whoopin (and her parents too), I lost my mind AGAIN at my daughter saying "crap" in front of me. I run a household where the word "stupid" is a travesty and she wanna come home talking like THIS?!?

I promise you I had to have a little talk with Jesus this week. Tole' him all about my troubles ... and she lucky He heard my fainted cry. Because, HAW-NEY ... there was about to be a revival of the pissed-off-gay-prican-daddy kind .... complete with wielded flip-flops and mile-a-minute speech impediments.

A 7-year old telling my 7-year old she's "hot." WTF!?!? Pass me the church fan - I need some air.

On a serious note ...

2010-01-28T22:40:00.004-05:00

I don't feel like finding pictures and shit right now - so, consider this the Catcher in the Rye version of JGC.

24 Days
I have not had a cigarette in 24 days. I'm fucking amazed at myself. I started smoking some 15 years ago and although I had this notion in my head that I could not smoke forever, and knew that I had to eventually quit ... I didn't actually think I was going to. But, I did.

It's an interesting thing to find new triggers that I didn't realize were triggers. I got into the car to drive to Indianapolis and I started to pay my pocket to make sure I had my cigarettes - and I stopped myself. I really wanted a cigarette? Why? Because they characterized every road trip I've ever taken. Yet, now I drive and don't smoke. And I don't get road rage either! Bonus.

To crush or not to crush ... that is the question
Admittedly, I've been crushing on this boy and I'm just totally tired of it. It's kinda of a knack of mine, though, to want what is not available to me ... at one time it was DL men, at another time it was married men, and now gay men in relationships. It's funny that I've gone through it so much that I can just shoo it away like an annoying, buzzing fly.

That didn't used to be the case - those who have known me the longest can attest to the fact that JACK has been known to hold on to some nonsense ... like that gay dude who lived 700 miles away who I met online and I longed for for three years ... having never met him. Yuh - that was a str8 mess. (so to speak)

But I don't have years anymore. I don't think I even have months in me anymore. I'm fucking great - because if I don't think so, who the hell will?!?! - and I really need to do better by me. And so - NOT to crush, it is.

300
That's how many posts JGC is approaching. JGC is definitely the longest relationship I've had. Unless you count the 7 years I spent with the ex-wife. But she's a girl - so I don't count her.

Anyway - I've got to do something big for post 300, I think. I don't know what it is, though. No idea at all. I don't have much time, though ... maybe I'll just squat on it (again, so to speak).

Any ideas?

Why yes. Yes, I do.

2010-01-25T15:44:00.002-05:00

Hello fellow bloggers! Please get to the chorus before you decide I've wasted your time.

Clitter me this!

2010-01-22T15:24:00.001-05:00

A special thank to Booboo for bringing a smile to my day with clitter:

JACK's Self Aware

2010-01-17T01:47:00.008-05:00

I've taken to making a whole to of changes at the same time. And it seems like one of those New Year's Resolutions gone Wild, but not one thing is based on the calendar year. It's coincidental, at best. What's NOT coincidental is the fact that I'm indeed doing it all at once. Let me talk about two of them:

I Quit Smoking
When my daughter wrote "For my Family to Quit Smoking" on her little note and put it under the tree before she went to bed Christmas eve, I thought I might cry. I could just picture her writing it and really wanting me to not be a smoker. I remembered how I wanted the same thing for my mother when I was a kid and how I longed for her to quit and how she now has emphysema and is certain to succumb to it eventually ... it really struck a chord.

Once, some time between fifth and eighth grade, I took The Great America Smokeout a little bit too seriously. When I came home from school I hid all the smoking paraphernalia: cigs, lighters, matches, ashtrays ... EVERYTHING. Sometime after nightfall and before bedtime, my mother walked up to me while I was lying on the floor and grabbed my shirt collar, lifted me up off the floor a little bit and made it abundantly clear that I was soon to meet my maker if she didn't get all her stuff back. Hey - at least she made it until after dark.

I'm trying to lose weight (again)
In 2006 - I slimmed down pretty good. In fact, I lost 40 pounds! I think I might have overdone it. I probably should have only lost 25. Now that I've gained it all back, that's my goal. 25 pounds. Just so that I don't die and them bastard pallbearers don't complain about how much I fucking weigh. You know how them gays don't respect even the dead and shit ...

Conundrum
Do you know how fucking retarded it is to diet and quit smoking at the same mother fucking time? I mean, to add insult to injury, I'm working on ceasing the tomfoolery dating-ridiculous-dudes-for-the-express-purpose-of-having-something-to-blog-about nonsense that I'm NOT writing about in this post ... and so I can't even put one of THEM in my mouth ... no fucking cigarette, no damn zingers, ho hos, oatmeal cream pies, cartwheels .. or ANYTHING ...

And look, I know what I'm doing. I'm totally aware that I'm doing everything at the same time only because even if I fail at something, I still have other opportunities to find something I've succeeded at ... you know, if I have a cigarette, I can always focus on the fact that I've lost a pound or two ... or, if I hose down a top in Gun Oil, wrap him in cellophane and ride him like it's the last express train to Howard, at least I haven't had a cigarette that day ...

It's maddening that I'm totally aware of it and am still brain-fucking myself and I'm letting it work. That's some crazy shit, I swear. But let a FYNE nigga come up to me offering to face fuck me while I pump iron and totally condoning my having an afterglow cigarette to get the taste out my mouth ... and he might just get the best workin-off-all-this-tension sex he wants and more.

YEAH - I said it. AND what, mfer ... AND what?

Top Ten lists a la JACK

2010-01-12T22:14:00.005-05:00

Top Ten Reasons Obama Should Address Race Issues

10. Are you fucking kidding me? He’s the fucking President. Can the man BE President first? Then he can take up race issues about what it was like to be the first Black President and how race impacted him and his office and what his views were as those issues arose and blah blah blah. This whole fucking notion that he should talk about it because he IS President totally undermines the actual job of BEING the President. Isn’t his plate already fucking full? I mean, you know what … Haiti – stop bitching. It’s just an earthquake. President Obama got a roundtable with Al Sharpton – he ain’t time for this shit.

Top Ten Ways to Fuck Up late Night

10.Remove Jay Leno

9. Replace him with Conan

8. Replace Conan with Jimmy Falon

7. Make up a creepy show for Jay at 10pm

6. Watch ratings plummet

5. Convene a meeting

4. Start talking shit that you’re gonna shake things up

3. Watch Conan murder you on live TV

2. Watch Letterman stew that he STILL isn’t getting The Tonight Show

1. Have FOX get interested in Conan

Top Ten Bitch Ass Punks in Women’s Sports

10.Mark Mcgwire

9.Mark Mcgwire

8.Mark Mcgwire

7.Mark Mcgwire

6.Mark Mcgwire

5.Mark Mcgwire

4.Mark Mcgwire

3.Mark Mcgwire

2.Mark Mcgwire

1.Mark Mcgwire

Movin' on up

2010-01-11T22:05:00.004-05:00

Since sometime last summer - July I think - I have been crashing on my friend's couch in the big chi. I'm not sure what possessed me to think I could carry the rent for a 1-BR apartment in Chicago, while I kept a mortgage and a second mortgage in Indianapolis, but I tried it. And it fuckin' TRIED me, ok? When that one-year lease was over, I was through. I wasn't sure what my next step was going to be, but I had been all over craigslist looking for someone renting a room because $800 in rent per month was not working for me.

So, my friend offered me his couch in his one-bedroom. I considered this, and since I'm in Chicago half-time MAYBE ... and I kinda have an affinity for sleeping on my own couch anyway ... I said what the hey. And for the most part, it's been a good set up. In the interest of preserving the friendship we have, I won't go into any details about my decision to move out, but as I told him ... I value our friendship, and we're cool and will be cool after I move. However, if I stay much longer, we may not be cool for very long and I seriously would rather figure something else out than damage a friendship. Plain. And simple, too.

During that conversation he asked me if I knew when I would stat looking for a place. I lied and said I wasn't sure. He suggested I start looking in March. I knew he suggested that because his lease is up in April and he wants to move out of that apartment. I don't blame him. Why?

This here picture represents more water than came out of the faucet this mroning when I turned on the hot water. Right - piss poor. And the heat wasn't on ... turned off sometime during the night and I was chilly ... the to-the-bone kind of chilly and I really wanted a warm shower. Yet, not an option.

That pretty much sealed the deal. I had had dinner this past weekend with another friend, who owns a 3BR condo and considered a roommate situation before. He's still up for it and we talked about things and it seems like it will work out. I told him that I would make a decision this week. However, after the heat-less, shower-less morning I had? I negotiated a 3-month trial with him. I'll give my roommate my one month notice this week when I give him his rent money. I'll probably be out of there sooner, though. Dude's condo is furnished ... with a bed!

Funny part of this is that yesterday my current roommate told me he saw this apartment he really liked on craigslist and sent an email to the owner about it, asking if anything would be available in April, he'd be interested. That struck me, because this is the same dude who suggested *I* look for a place starting in March. Did you catch that? Right - so did I. I told him all sorts of good things ... like good for him and it sounds like what he really wants out of an apartment, and I'm genuinely glad he's dealing with it. And I'm genuinely letting go of the fact that he told me to wait until March while he went looking for something himself.

Surprise! I've already got one.

Santa's a Bitch

2010-01-07T17:03:00.003-05:00

My daughter wrote out a Christmas list on Christmas eve, a list in addition to the one she already had. She wanted Santa to replace a broken DS and put that under the tree. A fair exchanged, she thought. When everyone was asleep, I picked up all the stuff she left under the tree and hid it in my bag. When I got to Chicago and unpacked it, there it was ... written on the back of her list ... in HER handwriting: "For my family to stop smoking."

Clearly, it tugged on my heart strings. I've been smoking since I was 18 ... their mom came down with breast cancer and is only just now having her hair grow back from all the chemo ... and my kids are kinda freaked out. So, I made the decision to buy patches instead of a carton of cigarettes. I'm currently on day 3 without a cigarette. My last one was on Monday evening.

So, I've got this pair of hand grips and I keep them in my coat pocket. I'm totally exercising the fuck out those things because withdrawal symptoms are a bitch and a half. I'm on edge, folks - on edge.

This here quitting is like Death by Patch, and I blame Santa. That fuckface is making me about to check into a methadone clinic on account of the fact that I am a big time addict. I mean, I knew I liked to smoke ... but the gravity of my addiction? I had no idea. LET a monther fucker say something stupid to me ... I'm all about it, dammit.

That coworker of mine who came out his face at me today? I haven't been THAT close to losing it at work ... EVER. I held it in as best I could ... and then headed to my hand grips to pump away like a maniac.

I'm told this last about a week before it gets better. It's probably a good thing I chose Monday so that I'm not like this during the weekend. But, suffice it to say ... Santa is a cunt.

Deep Fried Awesome

2010-01-05T17:07:00.004-05:00

Remember that blogger I met? That fool done stuffed his face with the only heart attack on a plate: the deep fried Twinkie. Three of them. He doesn't know it, but while he ate, I was totally texting my peeps, "there're deep fried twinkies on the table!"

So, JADED and I got to texting about how good those shits must be. And then we coined our new phrase. Deep Fried Awesome.

Yes, yes - it is to be used to describe the creme de la creme (How the hell you use accent marks on this bitch?!?) and you can really use it to describe anything. At present, it's exclusive use references my friendship with Jaded ... our wit ... our penchant for making ANYTHING funny.

You know, if we had the wherewithal to actually make a move on any of the deep fried awesome ideas we've had for starting a business ... we'd be some deep fried awesomely rich.

Of course, she's way ahead of the game, having opened The Jaded Bodega.

bitch.

Pay her store a visit - it's oodles of fun.

(and tell that bitch I sent you so she knows I'm being a good pal)

Feel free to comment on what YOUR deep fried awesome is. (Seriously, do it - anything goes)

JACK Fierce

2010-01-03T16:50:00.003-05:00

Recently, I transcended my blog and actually decided to meet a fellow blogger and it wasn't the horror I was so sure it would be once I stepped from inside cyberspace into reality. It was wholly and completely normal. Dudes hanging out, having a few drinks (I had my share, I admit it!) and laughing it up to the unfinished ceiling. It's silly that it took me so long.

The reality is that JACK exists as a caricature of what I wish would be socially acceptable of me. Although my closest and dearest friends (you know who you are! heeeeeeyyyyyyy) know how really off-the-wall things can come flying out of my pie hole, for the most part life has toned me down. I don't always now say the things that come to mind ... and that shit still doesn't come easily. I find myself doing a lot of self-coaching, saying to myself "just let it go, don't say a thing ..." and many another mantra to simply let myself be the wise man who says nothing.

But for a very long time I was the fool who said whatever the fuck came to mind. My having created JACK allowed me to channel a lot of my nonsense into a world with no repercussions ... like, blogger can't fire me or refuse to be my friend anymore ... and it can't get pissed off at me for saying some nonsense. JACK, therefore, is the culmination of all the things the average person would like to say ... but doesn't.

JACK is unabashedly ... well, me. He is an accentuation of the attitude I carry, of the insatiable appetite for men I carry, and then some. JACK, in short, is fierce. Just all out there for the world to see (hear?) and all that. There are not many things the real me would share ... whereas JACK can't stop running his fucking mouth. I swear to the gods that I wish I could just sock him right in his goddam mouth sometimes.

See, the real me would say to the man who lost his erection, "it's cool, baby ... just hold me." And then JACK gets on his blog and talks about how the nigga couldn't get in if he had a map and a flashlight and I took him there! (Seriously, that's quoted from a previous blog post)

The real me listens intently ... JACK expresses his deep rooted desire for the bastard to shut the fuck up. PLEASE!

The real me is worth getting to know, worth befriending, worth loving. Just ask that handful of people I count myself blessed to know. I'm a good damn time!

JACK, however ... hmph! If he rears his ugly head, just shake yours at him and laugh at him. But he's a good damn time, too!

Yet there are rules ... JACK never breaks my confidence, or yours. IF I'm sworn to secrecy, so is JACK. He never crosses that line. NEVER.

All in all, JACK is my outlet - for your viewing pleasure. And as goddam sure as I am ... JACK, too, is fierce.

(without the motorcycle garb)

PS - Thanks for the invite out, fellow blogger. A total privilege.

Hello the 2010s!

2010-01-02T01:19:00.002-05:00

January 1, 2010 - 7am. My son throws up in my bed. (Yuh - that's about right.)

10am. Sister-in-law calls and wants to bring her kid over.

11am. At pancake house with sister-in-law, her kid and my kids. The kids are all happy to be together. The sheets are in the washer at home.

2pm. Sister-in-law says she needs to go cuz her friend is going to help her take her hair out. (micro braids) "Unless YOU want to help me," she says. (Yuh - that's about right, too)

"I'll see you next time," I respond.

3pm. Kids are whining like crazy - I send them to bed for a nap.

5pm. Heating up pizza for dinner. Kids happy about it.

8pm. Get the sheets out of the dryer and make bed. Daughter's bath runs out of hot water. (That's about right, yet again)

10pm. Kids asleep. Another day finished.

midnight - exactly what the hell did I do with the last two hours again?!? NO. FUCKING. IDEA.

Good riddance decade!

2009-12-30T13:59:00.005-05:00

I don't feel very centered right now. But I refuse to take that nonsense into the next decade. I am determined to clear my mind, clean the slate and maybe even turn in the dusty, unseemly chalkboard of the 2000's for a new, pristine white board onto which to begin writing my 2010s.

Clean slates are good. I am ready to shake my head really fast and erase all the negativity, as if my mind were an etch-a-sketch and my resolve is the hand of a rambunctious toddler trying to erase the scribble to start all over again.

My last post discussed a very serious issue I'm struggling with and I'm not entirely certain yet that I will officially out myself to my parents, but I think there's a possibility. The reality is that there exist a myriad of things that I need to fix. In no particular order:

I need to get my ass back to the gym on the regular. Several years ago, on January 10th of that year, I began a diet and exercise plan that lasted 10 months. I lost 40 pounds and felt great. But I stopped going (for good reasons at the time) and just never picked it back up (for LOUSY reasons). I got into a relationship and got complacent and slowly the weight's back. It's gotten worse over the last year, though ... but I think that I'll start again in 2010 as an outward expression of my commitment to a better me.
I've got to get my financial house in order. I've given myself 5 years to clear my portfolio of all unsecured debt ... of all vehicle loans (I'll drive this Altima until the hubcaps come flying off across the interstate, and then some). I refuse to be turn 40 and carry the debt load that I do. So, there will be some changes.
I've got to get better organized in general - living in two cities is rough and I seem to constantly find myself needing something that I've left in the other city. It's gotten better, but it's far from perfect.

There are others, but those are the biggies. And I'm putting it all out there once and for all - I'm tired of constantly dealing with the same shit year in and year out. I'm just over it. And I'm using the turn of the decade as my catalyst to a better me.

And, yes, even *I* am surprised that having a man isn't on this list. It's just not on it. There are some things on the inside that I need to mend, and although I welcome the companionship and am willing to be a helpmate to another man who is willing to be mine, I am SO over the notion of wanting him. Needing him. Looking for him.

Bitch - YOU find ME.

Happy New Year all.

The Closet

2009-12-29T17:40:00.008-05:00

To this point in my life, I've considered myself rather discreet ... I know, shocking. But really, I don't wear my sexuality on my sleeve and have only denied it when asked about it at work. I just don't feel the need to talk about it at work. So, I guess my closet has been of the comfy type, like decorating the hell out of a double-wide and feeling like I'm in a mansion. It really hasn't been an issue for me - I have a support system of people who know my proclivities and they mean the world to me.

The reality is that I'm not really all up under my parents (haven't been for quite some time) and the notion of "having" to come out to them really seems ridiculous to me. At this point in my life, I'm divorced, have two kids, a career and I live some 700-plus miles away from them. So, in spacial, geographical terms ... it really isn't necessary.

I was thinking about New Year's Resolutions the other day and although I'm not the type to really make them (they never work out for me) ... it occurred to me that we would be entering a whole new decade. That really made me think of the 2000's as whole ... not just of 2009 as a year by itself.

We lost the twin towers of the WTC. More than 3,000 lost their lives. Millions lived in panic at the mercy of government's need to create a common, formidable enemy (an entirely different topic, I know).

Hundreds of thousands lost their lives as the oceans reached miles past their shores, tsunamis triggered by a massive earthquake.

Earthquakes are increasing in number (I'll leave out the biblical implications), having taken the homes and lives of millions in the past 10 years.

Then I considered my own life over the past decade:

Married in 2000
Bought a house in 2001
Baby Girl was born in 2002
My baby boy born in 2003
Separated in 2004
Divorced in 2005
Court battle 2006
Ridiculous at work daily in 2007
Laid off in 2008
Commute to and from Chicago through 2009
Still single heading into 2010

That's not to say that there weren't any good things - but in light of the frailty of life, I thought about how hectic my life has been ... I thought about who I really am and want to be int he next decade ... and it occurred to me that my parents don't really know me.

That part bothered me. I considered my having not really told them about my sexuality (although they suspect) and the issue isn't really about whether or not I'm obligated to come out to them ... it's about whether or not I allow them to really know me.

And I think I really want to tell them.

I don't want to wait until I'm in a relationship and add strain to my partner because he's the thing that's giving me the strength to tell them ... because that's not fair. I should really be affording a man a whole lot better than that. And that comes as a result of a whole lotta nonsense I've been through with dating, much of which I've documented in this blog. Surely if I can articulate how DL men don't offer me much, and can name examples of why I am convinced that's true ... how could I really expect to offer much to someone when my own parents don't know the real me?

I'm not sure how things will pan out - or even if I'll go through with it immediately but I'm determined to make the next decade much better than the one I'm leaving. Because, honey ... I really, REALLY want to leave it .. far, far behind me.

Jaded's Duffel Bag

2009-12-26T21:28:00.004-05:00

In this post, Jaded listed all the things that needed to get done in the event of her death, before her momma got to her apartment to go through her things. She wrote:

In my closet, behind all the handbags that I never use, there's a Nike duffel bag. Burn this as well. Without opening it. Trust me when I say you DON'T want to know what is in this bag.

Ah, yes - the infamous Nike duffel bag. I know this bag. I know its contents. And in perezhilton-gossip fashion, I shall detail the contents of said bag:

The knife, in a zip lock bag
In high school, jaded and I met and quickly hit it off. We were the laurel and hardy of that high school ... although, I do admit that no one knew we were as funny as we are. They were all some stuffed shirts in that nerdy specialized high school. But there was this one Jewish kid, who shall remain nameless, that entered our lives ... and he just had to go. She hid the stained weapon in the closet, in the duffel bag. You mustn't tell.

A Hand Puppet
She calls him A-ROD, mainly because there's no way she's dragging a MET's name through the mud. And there's A-ROD, stuffed in the bag ... silent. Completely and totally silent. He just lays in wait ... hanging on her every word. Like an obedient pup, well trained ... and quiet.

Masculinity, in a jar
How his new wife puts up with the remnants, post-emasculation, is beyond me. But you MUST destroy that jar before her momma finds it. Like she said - don't OPEN the bag. But if you hear or feel broken glass, you're screwed.

Elevator key, on a key ring that says "yayayayayya"
Don't ask. It's better you don't know. But suffice it to say that the FDNY is not the only one who can stall elevators with the turn of a key. Sure, some Muslim somewhere is jobless because he lost the key ... but since when have you known jaded to discriminate? All races, creeds and religions are fair game.

Father x's white collar
Yes - she probably bagged a priest. I'm not sure though. But she's got the collar. And she won't have anyone asking any questions.

Voodoo doll
This one is quite mysterious. It's labeled BITCH. Even when she's dead, she doesn't want you trying to guess who it is. It's riddled with push pins and sewing needles.

The cardboard shoebox
It's got these little air holes in it. Along the bottom the following words: His Self Esteem. She figures it should breathe, even if it's stale air sullied by the stale sweat from the neck of a priest mixed with the grease from an elevator operator's pocket. He's used to such confined spaces anyway.

An old plug-in vibrator, cord cut
Rumor has it she entered the room and cut the cord near the outlet. Til this day no one knows who was at the other end. Her penchant for keeping mementos can be quite disturbing.

... and some old gym socks.

JACK'S HOLIDAY WISH

2009-12-24T12:34:00.003-05:00

Which one would you like this Christmas?
Start in the back row, left to right: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6
and then the front row, left to right: 7, 8

HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BLOG FAMILY!!!

Prioritizing 101

2009-12-23T12:12:00.003-05:00

The self sacrificing that characterizes maturity (I almost said adulthood, but that's not quite right) takes a lot to maintain. Although I do figure out how to make time for me, there really isn't enough time in my life right now that is dedicated to me and me alone. It can feel a bit overwhelming sometimes.

My children always come first. That's a given. They didn't request the opportunity to be my children, they were given to me as a result of my own actions ... they are my blessing, in fact and I won't live like they don't exist. Towards that end, I maintain a career that pays enough to afford THEM a better life than the one I had growing up.

And really, that's what it should be about. It's not about giving your kids EVERYTHING - it's about giving them more than you had and setting the stage to allow them to be able to give THEIR children more than they had. That's how I see it, anyway. And for the most part, I stick to that. Admittedly, however, I do work get a thrill by giving them more and more and more closer to everything ... but I try to keep that in check.

Anyway, between work and parenting, the former receiving so much of my time only because of the latter, there's not much time for anything else. But, I manage to make some time for me. And if you're a follower of this blog, you probably know that I do alright. Every now and again, however ... I just need to complain.

I'm tired. I'm soooo tired. The last six months have been taxing beyond description. I just got back from taking the kids to NYC to visit their abuelo and abuela. We were there for four days. And air travel with two kids, all their shit and all my shit and two car seats? It wasn't easy.

Less than 48 hours before we left for NYC, I returned from a business trip in Nashville. I was there teaching a course. Less than 24 hours before THAT plane left, I was driving to Indianapolis from Chicago because the President had the office Christmas party at his house on Saturday night.

I've put nearly 40,000 miles on my car since April 2008 driving to and from Indianapolis and Chicago. The ex-wife has been ill (battling cancer all year) ... my son's asthma is flaring up. My job reorganized (i.e laid off 1/3 of the staff) in June and they still don't have an org chart of how shit there is supposed to work ... my finances are a mess, trying to keep up with living in two places ...

The holidays? Lawd. I'm cooking (again). I have stuffing in the oven, a ham in the fridge ready to go into the over overnight, etc. etc. etc. I cooked the entire Thanksgiving meal and took it to the baby momma house (turkey, squash, stuffing, corned beef, sweet potatoes .. blah blah blah) because she had the kids and she had just gotten out of surgery ....

There's so much to focus on that it's all a blur. I feel like I'm blinking rapidly at life trying to make it all clear ... and things are indeed beginning to fall through the cracks. I forgot to pay a couple of bills last month (late fees are a bitch), and not for the lack of funds, but because I just totally rushed it when I was doing my finances. I think about 90% of my clothes are on the floor ready to be put away but I just can't manage to get it all organized and in the drawers. My back is riddled with tension and I need to be rung out like a wet towel, but who has the time to lay still on a massage table. Seriously, 2009 has been a mother fucker.

BUT ... my babies don't know it - there's a Christmas tree glowing in the living room, all of Santa's gifts are wrapped and put away on top of the laundry room closet, there WILL be a meal tomorrow for dinner and the kids' smiles will make it seem all worth it. Especially when they open that Nintendo Wii.

Expect me to play that fucking thing a LOT.

Even when they're gone.

Because I do need to make time for me - and I'll get it wherever I can find it.

My Cuddle Buddy

2009-12-15T21:32:00.000-05:00

My son lost his two front teeth this past week. It's so cute. He let me know that he might not be kissing right because of his teeth. I swear to God I love that boy to the death.

He got to calling me his cuddle buddy at some point. It just stuck. We're cuddle buddies. Thing is that he just fits ... I don't know how else to explain it. He fits perfectly when I hold him, perfectly when he lays his head on my lap, perfectly when he just crawls on top of me to lay and watch TV. He's a little bit, really - like 42 pounds or something. And he's just so comfy.

He's an affection little booger and I miss him. I'm in a hotel room in Nashville, alone. And I'm not out and about being a ho, or looking for some random brutha to stop on in and let me have it. I'm not even trippin for another man's company.

But my little man - I wish he were here so we could play video games and laugh and watch movies and eat popcorn and so that I could hear him say, "I love you, Cuddle Buddy."

I love you, too, cuddle buddy.

Ranting ala JACK

2009-12-14T01:16:00.005-05:00

Homeland Security

My roommate wantd me to change the shower head at the apartment so I took my vice grip over to Chicago from my home in Indianapolis. I was tired of that old shower head so I was more than thrilled to comply with his request. THe fucking vice grip sat in the bottom of my bag for weeks. I really wasn't paying much attention to it and it really had sunken to the bottom of my roller bag and since I pull that thing behind me all over the place, it's not like I was CARRYING it or anything ... I simply forgot it was there.

Until, that is, I was standing at the xray machine watching the TSA fools, I mean folks, staring at the screen and pointing. I felt my heart drop - oh fuck - I'm really trying to get on this plane with a vice-grip!

So, he brings the bag over and I tell him exactly which pocket it's in. The agent takes the vice grip out of my bag, puts it in that little dog-bowl lookin' bucket and send it back through the x-ray machine. He doesn't give me back my bag. I'm certain I'm going to be detained or something ... and they're gonna ask me what bolt I was gonna try to undo and blah blah blah.

But the friendly TSA agent doesn't grill me. Instead, he puts the vice grip back into the very same compartment of my bag he found it in ... zips my bag closed and hands me my bag with the vice grip in it. I took my bag and it took all I had not to shake my head. But I look at it this way ... if some shit goes down at 24,000 feet, I have a weapon.

So, don't take a bottle of Dasani water through there, bitches ... but vice grips? ok.

Dumbasses.

Side Note
I kinda was a bit of a mess because my condoms were in there too. And I don't mean a few condoms ... I mean the enormous handful I got from the clinic last time I got tested. In there with the vice grip. The vice grip was all the way down in the bag and the condoms scattered all over the bag on top of it. It's a fucking mess, I tell you ... the shit that be happening to me.

2009-12-03T19:50:00.002-05:00

It's SHAMEFUL that those ridiculous senators who are scared of gays weren't listening to this eloquent speech.

Black Friday with JACK

2009-11-28T00:04:00.004-05:00

In 2002, I did the Black Friday thing. I started at 5am and learned at how ridiculous people could get waiting outside for HOURS before then. I didn't get everything I was looking for that year, but I did get a few things and it was fun.

Except for Toys R Us. I will never, EVER go to that store on Black Friday or during the holidays at all. There was yelling and kicking and screaming and parents fighting over toys. The same toys they'd yell at their children for fighting over at some point. It was mayhem and just a whole lotta nonsense - and I'm not risking my life over a five dollar Barbie.

This year, I was out there as a good deed. My roommate is dating someone new who has issues that my roommate is using his ex's laptop still. He borrowed it after his desktop crashed and has been using it ever since. So, my roommate wants a new laptop - to be honest, I think he just needed something to push him to spend the money. He's wanted his own damn laptop since forever.

Anyway, I was there for a laptop. The roommate is going to reimburse me and I actually had nothing going on that would prevent me from getting it ... and he was going to be out of town at his parents without a car. So, fine - I went.

TO WALMART!

Oh dear God. It was something else. And why did I get stuck around these chatty ass women who just wanted to talk and tell stories about where they'd been already (Toys R Us opened at mid-fucking-night!) and how tired they were and what they ate and all this nonsense I just didn't give a fuck about. Whatever, I did it. There were some things at Walmart that I wanted to get, including a $29 bicycle for my son. So, I bore the misery from 3am to 6am when I finally got out of there.

Have you ever seen that email forward about people that shop at Walmart? THey're usually dressed in their pajamas or some ghetto/white trash outfit that makes no sense - have you seen it? Well, I learned that those really aren't staged. They're really not. LAWD. HAVE MERCY. Some of these people really did look like their parents were spawned from the same womb. I swear they did.

And THEN - there was THIS nigga:

Really? You're going to climb your big, Black ass into a shopping cart to sit? You can't stand for two hours and not make a fool of yourself in front of all these White people? Really? THAT shit was crazy. You should've seen him push the gate all the way up and around, crouch underneath it and wedge himself into that cart. And eventually, he scooted all the way back into the cart, put his elbows on the sides of the cart and let his feet just dangle in midair ... I swear, some people make no goddam fucking sense.

I just HAD to put him on blast. JACK is never without his camera, people.

Mouth of babes: A saying that's TELLING

2009-11-23T21:15:00.005-05:00

Today - my lawd Jesus, today. I wasted 4.5 hours of my life on a conference call. And when I was done, EVERYTHING was bothering me. I was just one cranky bitch. You know those moments when you feel like the next mother fucker that so much as SPEAKS to you will go down in a wrath not seen since the Israelites were worshiping golden calves while Moses was gone for 40 days. (If you believe in such things). Well, it was one of those days.

It's also one of those days where I can say mother fucker, cranky bitch AND Moses all in the same paragraph. Just accept it - I'm not in the mood.

It didn't help that my sister in law came by to pick up the money her mother said I was going to give her. I told her that I came home with her mother's check and haven't gone to cash it yet because of this conference call - you know, the one that was so painful it blurred my vision - and that I was STILL on the conference call.

Why is it that during this conference call I hear this bitch's footsteps in the hallway, listening to see if I was still on the conference call? When the fuck did I become your bitch? Just because you goddamn son is out of diapers doesn't mean I have to drop everything and run around town like I ain't got no goddamn sense ... I done TOLE this bitch at least three times before that if you wait until the last minute, it's only because you think you're more likely to get the handout if there's an emergency. And I'm through being manipulated, ok? I'm over it. I know the game well ... so her tip toeing on my laminate flooring made me want to take up one of those planks and smack her with it.

Bitch, I'm busy.

So, after the conference call, I go to the bank and deposit the check and withdraw the $200 she needed. (Don't ask me what the fuck she wanted it for - I just know that her mom asked me to deposit her paycheck and suddenly I have more shit to do because I have her money) So, after I get the goddamn money I call this bitch only to have her say that she went over to her moms and had her withdraw the money out of her account so she was good.

GOOD?!?

"And who was gonna tell ME that you DIDN'T need me to go to the bank?"

"oh."

That's all she had to say. "Oh." Now I gotta take my ass BACK to the bank to deposit this cash ... and I'm on my way to pick up my kids and I gotta feed them and bathe them and homework and reading and bed times ... mother, fuck - got damn, bitch.

She started saying some other shit and I was just like, "you know what, bye."

So I'm all flustered and pissed off and cranky and i WISH someone would say something stupid to me ... and all that.

I get home to read an email from my daughter's teacher - it's their weekly newsletter. Guess what - she's saying no homework all week since it's a short week. Instead she had the kids write down what they were thankful for and she published it in the classroom newsletter.

At this point, I should tell you that my baby mama has been ill. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say that it's serious - she had surgery last week and that adds to the number of things I've got to get done this week, which is why the whole bank thing was such a big deal. Like, seriously - the baby mama and I, three weeks ago, had the "If I die ..." conversation - I've been stressed. I know - it doesn't show one bit.

So, I'm scanning this newsletter to see what my daughter said - because, let's face it, who gives a fuck what the other kids said. And there's my baby's name, and she says:

I'm thankful for the doctors that are keeping my mommy safe.

omg - my eyes well up just typing it. How precious a lesson my daughter taught me just then ... I sit here with tears rolling down my face - tears that parents shed that their kids never know about. Tears we shed only when they're fast asleep, safe and secure.

You know what - it was just a conference call. It was 4.5 hours of my life - and I have my life. I wasn't the I in "If I die ..." My children are worried about their mommy and think about it enough to be thankful, even at 6 and 7, that there are doctors who specialize in taking care of their mommy. What's another trip to the bank?

I conditioned and detangled my daughter's hair tonight. I sat her under the hair dryer, gave her some books ... and even though it was way passed her bedtime, I sat there with my book on the couch while she read her book sitting underneath the hood. It was the first time she used it - and she felt like a big girl. And she was all smiles.

Nothing else really matters if a father can make his daughter smile.

She stopped reading and looked at me and asked, "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have a hug?"

Nothing else really matters if a daughter can make her daddy smile, too.

And I did - I smiled.

Self Centered Men

2009-11-15T23:40:00.002-05:00

I met a guy online and we really seemed to hit it off. We exchanged numbers and had a phone conversation that was effortless by all measures. He had a very interesting story and I asked tons of follow up questions during a 2-hour conversation that didn't seem nearly that long at all. We agreed to meet for lunch the following day.

It was a fool proof plan, I thought. It was his day off and I am pretty flexible with my work schedule and can go out for lunch at any time. We texted in the morning and it seemed like it might be a little later than noon ... he manages a restaurant and had to go in to do a few things and we would meet after that.

Seemed fine.

Then he told me to just come by his restaurant. I wasn't so sure about that, but I did want to meet him in person and so I went. It was awkward to say the least and I'll spare all of the details about how I told him I was uncomfortable being there at his job and how everyone was trying to get his attention and asking him questions, and about how we agreed to just sit in the sitting area away fro everyone and just talk and how he then decided to give me a tour of the building and introduced me to all these damn people. (after I told him that this was his work and I didn't think we really should be hanging out there, especially on our first meeting)

I agreed to have lunch on Saturday with him. It meant that I had to wake up early and drive back to Chicago to meet him, but I thought it was worth it. I really did want to spend time getting to know him in neutral territory.

On Friday night I called him and he told me that we wouldn't be able to meet for lunch the following day because he made other plans after I left ... after we agreed on meeting for lunch on Saturday. He said that I should call him when I get back into town and he would see if he had time to meet with me, "no, I'll MAKE time to meet with you," he said.

Well, how about NO. How about I come back to Chicago whenever the hell I feel like it and NOT call you to tell your dumb ass that I'm in town. At this point, I review the 2 hour conversation we had and it really WAS all about him - he did most of the talking and I found out a LOT about his life and he found out little to none about mine. Moreover, he wanted me to see HIS place of employment, give me a tour of the building HE works in ... and wanted me to let him know when I was around and he's fit me into HIS schedule.

All in all, I found him totally wrapped up in HIM - and while I really like a man who has his shit together and has a career and all that ... I'm going to need him to come with enough security to not have to flaunt it. I didn't ooohhh and ahhhh about his restuarant or hotel ... Well, I travel a LOT for work and I've stayed at Ritz Carltons, resorts in Maui, Pointe Clear Alabama, blah blah blah. It get to the point where hotels are hotels with conference rooms and meeting rooms and banquet halls and sleeping rooms and it's all the fucking same. He really wasn't impressing me .. or fucking teaching me anything when he was trying to explain to me that there was an airwall in the restaurant that made a certain area a private function space.

... just like tons of private function areas I've been in for meetings ... from the like of St. Elmos in downtown Indianapolis to the Westin Mag mile. I GET IT!

I didn't call him when I came back into town - instead, I went out for my birthday this weekend and woke up with one hell of a hangover this afternoon.

I noticed him online today and I told him that it was too bad we didn't connect and that I hope he had a good weekend. He responded and said that he was sorry he was unable to make time in his schedule for me.

"LOL - you're silly. You DID have time - you just chose to spend it at a garage sale."

(that's where he went, btw, instead of keeping our Saturday lunch date)

He didn't respond.

He's out his damn mind if he thinks he's got it worse than anyone else when it comes to scheduling in a date ... mfer, I live in two cities, travel all over the damn country and still manage to make sure the men I date don't feel like impositions.

Too bad he's too wrapped up in himself trying to impress people with himself ... he's a good looking, successful Black man who can hold a decent conversation (that is, of course, as long as it's about him)

smh

Home

2009-11-12T21:32:00.002-05:00

This is pretty:

This is choppy:

And then there's the 11-year old Jazmine Sullivan:

And with that, the 11-year old done kicked them both in the teeth.

Tapa Ceilo Con La Mano

2009-11-06T15:03:00.002-05:00

I took this poll on FB about whether or not I support gay marriage. Of course, I answered that I do indeed support it. What you may not know is that I support it in theory, not in the "I'm about to go out and marry a bastard" sort of way. I suppose if it happens that I find a man I want to commit my life to, then I'd jump the broom again ... but, I'm a happily divorced man right now and I'm not in any particular hurry to even shack up with someone. Quite frankly, I like having things be exactly where I left them when I go to looking for them.

But what gets me is all the comment from the Christian right on the issue. How in the hell does one person's marriage impact another's? I'm at a loss. Preserving the sanctity of marriage is an issue that befuddles me when one considers the divorce rate. I'm part of the 50% of the population that got divorced, dammit - so don't tell me about the sanctity of marriage. That argument is hollow.

The title of this post references an old adage in Spanish - literally translated it means "block out sky with the hand." I've heard it used when people are trying to keep it real ... that is, acknowledging the obvious. But it's also a back handed slap to people who want to ignore really big omnipresent things as if they really don't exist. I'll give you an example.

I have an uncle. He's a ho. His sister-in-law came to live with him and his wife for economic reasons, or for whatever reason. I don't know the specifics. But what I do know is that his wife and his sister-in-law were both pregnant at the same time, while his sister-in-law was living in their house, and yes - you guessed it ... they're both his. Yet, no one talks about it or acknowledges it and my uncle, the youngest of 8, is still the "can't do no wrong" baby of the family.

Bitch, please - he's a ho. Now, the one thing that may make this story palatable is that the wife didn't kick out her sister or anything. They remained buddy, buddy. So, for all WE know the could maybe been having consensual menage-a-trois up in that bitch and it's really none of anyone's business (not that it's any of our business either way, but you know) ... but these sibling/cousins don't seem to have any real standing in the family at large. It's a shame. So, in referencing this situation, someone could be calling it out and start talking about it by saying they don't "tapa ceilo con la mano" and then start talking about my uncle being a fast ass.

So, I just called him out, fine. It's not even the issue here, although I could make this a VERY strong argument against the "holy matrimony" that the Christian right wants to make out of marriage. Let's get some things straight (tee hee, I said straight)

Marriage is not strictly a religious thing. When I married my now ex-wife we had to go downtown and get a MARRIAGE license from the state. The term "marriage" cannot possibly be reserved for the church.
I have Muslim friends who are married. Therefore, marriage cannot be inherently Christian because, well ... Allah done thrown a wrench into that whole thing right thurr
Don't Hindus believe in multiple gods? Yuh, they're married too.

But my main issue is the argument that this is a Christian nation based on Christian principles. Did anyone really research that and confirm the religious beliefs of our founding fathers? I mean, doe anyone know what the fuck a freemason is? an agnostic? I'm not doing your homework - just, if you're going to pursue this avenue, please OH PLEASE do some research.

And then there's that real humane treatment of native Americans. Nothing says Christian like raping, pillaging and forcing people from their land, taking it by force. It must have been that New Promised Land referenced during the 400 silent years no one knows shit about. or something.

Ahhh - and slavery too. Nothing says Christian like slavery, white hoods and hosing off crowds of people with fire engines and fire hydrants. And hanging people from trees! Christian as hell right thurr.

Frankly, I'm tired of hearing people talk about how Christian this country is - it's not. It's Christian-ISH, I'll give you that ... in the same way that my son was Red Power Ranger-ISH this halloween. He looked the part, so he WAS the part.

Dammit, people - just because you carry the Bible and can recite scripture ... that doesn't make you a Christian. Neither does going to church. Show me a man or woman who loves unconditionally, judges little to none, raises respectful children who also love unconditionally and judge little to none ... and I may begin to believe your religiosity isn't just a white, hooded cloak.

Spare me the skewed view of history and tell me, really - how does someone else's marriage impact yours? How does what I do in the bedroom impact what you do in the bedroom? How does who I plant flowers with in the garden impact your damn potted plants?

Show me freedom without ridiculous limits that are based on how you WANT our country's past to be. People should not marry goats - that's not a ridiculous limit. People should not marry people - that shit makes no sense.

Our country has a sullied past. Just fucking admit it and stop trying to force to be true a past that simply isn't. I can admit that I have a sullied past (my GAWD, I used to fuck with fish!) and that admission doesn't reduce me or minimize me. In fact, it empowers me and allows me to have more of an impact in general because people can actually believe what the fuck I say because I'm honest about what the fuck I've done.

When I say to my kids, "choose a mate wisely and don't rush into marriage," they can believe me because I've so been there and made the mistake.

When people say no to gay marriage because this is a Christian country, it just makes me want to remove that hand from their brow and announce, "stop blocking out the sky."

Dumb Bitch

2009-11-01T16:12:00.001-05:00

Robots Slay Me

2009-10-30T16:09:00.000-04:00

John was a salesman's delight when it came to any kind of unusual gimmicks. His
wife Marsha had long ago given up trying to get him to change.

One day John came home with another one of his unusual purchases. It was a
robot that John claimed was actually a lie detector.

It was about 5:30 that afternoon when Tommy, their 12 year old son, returned
home from school. Tommy was over 2 hours late.

"Where have you been? Why are you over 2 hours late getting home?" asked John.

"Several of us went to the library to work on an extra credit project," said
Tommy.

The robot walked around the table and slapped Tommy, knocking him completely out
of his chair.

"Son," said John, "this robot is a lie detector, now tell us where you really
were after school."

"We went to Bobby's house and watched a movie." said Tommy.

"What did you watch?" asked Marsha.

"The Ten Commandments," answered Tommy.

The robot went around to Tommy and once again slapped him, knocking him off his
chair. With his lip quivering, Tommy got up, sat down and said, "I am sorry I
lied. We really watched a tape called Sex Queen."

"I am ashamed of you son," said John. "When I was your age, I never lied to my
parents."

The robot walked around to John and delivered a whack that nearly knocked him
out of his chair.

Marsha doubled over in laughter, almost in tears and said, "Boy, did you ever
ask for that one! You can't be too mad with Tommy. After all, he is your son!"

The robot walked around to Marsha and knocked her out of her chair.

Do You

2009-10-29T17:17:00.003-04:00

You’ve always got a reason
There’s always an excuse
Always someone’s fault
Never your own
I can’t remember a time
When you said it was on you
You can’t ever own it
I’ve always got the deed
To whatever you done did wrong

I’m sorry should come easy
When you love like you say you love me
Yet it’s hard for you to do
When you do
What you do
So it’s time for you to do that
And do you

I can’t believe I apologize
To you
And for you
I’ve done it again and again
And from the inside it’s seemed like the right thing to do
But I’ve taken a different perspective
I’ve learned to be objective
It’s not my fault but
This thing comes to a halt

I’m sorry should come easy
When you love like you say you love me
Yet it’s hard for you to do
When you do
What you do
So it’s time for you to do that
And do you

Go on. Do you. Don’t be sorry now – it’s beyond too late
Sorry’s coming now easy I see but

I’m sorry should’ve come easy
If you loved like you say you love me
Yet it’s been hard for you to do
When you did
What you did
I can see it clearly now
do you?

Au Revoir.

When I think back on my life ...

2009-10-23T23:38:00.002-04:00

I don't know why I remembered this particular incident in college - but it hit me a little bit ago and it's gotten me to thinking. And I'd like your take.

First, you should know that I'm all of 5'6" and my idea of a fair fight is my swinging garbage cans and jabbing letter openers into people (and that trusty razor blade I hide neatly underneath my Puerto Rican tongue) ... but the reality is that I've never really had to actually BE in a fight. Because I'm crazy. Seriously - I'm not all there ... and I accept that. I really do. But at least I'm the functional type of crazy that doesn't need to be holed up in some psyche ward and studied until the right cocktail of drugs seems to be turning me into some predictable homo sapien that can be released to some apartment-based facility.

(look, the ex-wife worked at the psyche ward - THAT'S how I know these things! damn..)

I'm the type of crazy that even the strong and virile want around just in case shit gets too out of hand for them ... then steps in me. Looking all crazy and totally hiding the fact that I'm an inch from wetting myself.

So, anyway - there I was ... in college. Friends with member of both the boy's and the girl's rugby team. Look - I'm not stupid. I prefer to surround myself with people that aren't afraid to take a hit (in the face, not from a bong - but that too!) because I do consider myself way too pretty to be hit.

(unless I'm wearing my crazy face - see above)

So, I go to another dorm to hang out with two rugby players, one from the girl's team and one from the boy's team. In this trio - I'm totally the sane one, by the way. (Whatever they told you about Rugby players, if it was that they are "all there," you were lied to) So, we get to drinking and hanging out and listening to music and laughing and doing all the ridiculous things you do in college ... expect somehow they were wrestling me.

Now, let me tell you about me and wrestling.

NO.

So, I don't know - it got all weird really fast and suddenly dude with the rugby named "BUDDHA" (because, seriously - he was half filipino and TOTALLY looked like a statue of Buddha - all he needed was a bunch of fruit at his feet - and not me!) has me pinned down.

Except - it's weirder than just being pinned. We're laying on the floor, my back to him and he's got me pinned against ... himself - arms above my head in a full nelson and one big ole buddha-like leg thrown over me. Homegirl, by the way, is busy feeling me up and buddha starts grinding on my ass. And I'm totally mad because

She is totally not my type
He is totally not my type
I didn't ask for none of this
They seemed to have planned this whole thing, and
I JUST LOST MY FUCKING BUZZ

Ok, so my resolve is to ask them to stop. She said, "yeah right - stop - you know you like it."

I raise my voice, "NO! I DON'T - YOU NEED TO FUCKING STOP"

I raised my voice loud enough that it changed the situation and she threw her hands straight up into the air saying, "ok - ok." Buddha wasn't as reluctant to let go - he stopped grinding but didn't let go of his grip on me for about 30 seconds, which seemed like an eternity. But he did let go and the air in the room completely changed back to what it was before they pretty much accosted me.

So, why is it that even looking back at it now - I don't consider myself having been violated? Why did their apology right then make it ok to stay - you heard me ... I didn't leave right then. But the day is significant enough to me that I remember what I was wearing that night (green plaid flannel - blue jeans) .. and yet I can talk about it without any sort of disgust or disdain or malice or anything.

I think it's weird.

The joys of parenthood

2009-10-21T22:39:00.004-04:00

This was an interesting day. I drove back from Chicago last night, after a day's work, and listened to music the whole way. I really didn't do my ritual catching up with family and friends, driving with the cell phone to my ear like I was some Midwest Maria Shriver ... no, I just sat alone with my thoughts, singing into the windshield like it was begging for encores the whole three hours.

I just needed to clear my head of the noise, and make some of my own. In my car is the only place I really get ME time. For those parents out there, you TOTALLY know what I mean I say that behind the shut bathroom door is NOT no damn "me" time. It's in my car when no one is there but me behind some limo tinted glass.

Today was a typical day, riddled with work and errands. Ran to the bank - ran to the post office - had a lunch date at starbucks - got the mother in law some coffee and Newports because she was at work and didn't take her cash with her - and then went and got the kids.

It was so good to see them. I explained to them the plan:

Go home and pick up that coupon for a 6.99 haircut so we can get that rag mop taken off my son's head
Go to the Kiln store so we can pick up the ceramic heart jewelry box my daughter and I made together during daddy daughter day
Go get my son his haircut
Go home and eat dinner

They both agreed to the evening's run ... and off we went. Obviously, the ex-wife and I stay in touch about the chirrun' ... and so, I knew I had a question to ask. "So, baby - I hear you've been teaching the kid Spanish on the bus!"

*dead silence*

*immediately followed by a wailing daughter*

"What?"

**wailing**

So, my son pipes in and explains that his sister was teaching the kids on her bus some "bad" words in Spanish but he didn't know what they were. The problem with that was that it was my mission to find out what those words were. I calmed down my daughter and explained to her that I already knew that daycare had talked to her and that she and her momma had talked about it and that this was not a conversation about getting in trouble. I already knew that she already knew that she was not to do that again.

After some convincing, she told me what the words were. You ready for this blog family? Stupid. and Shut up.

Yes, folks, JACK's kids think that "stupid" and "shut up" are bad words - funny thing is that when I spoke to their momma about it (because I HAD to call the bitch when she texts me that my daughter told her I've been teaching her curse words in Spanish!) I told her that the only "bad" words I translated for her were stupid and shut up! Sure enough - that's what it was.

So, after she realized I wasn't going to beat her ass for it - she asked me not to tell her grandmother. Isn't she sweet? I agreed not to. I'll do it later, though. And grandma just won't be allowed to address it. But I'm so telling her about it. Too funny.

Then my son got his haircut - and he had the whole place laughing because it tickles when they buzz the back of his neck and he sits there with his shoulder hunched laughing his ass off ... and it's totally contagious. It really is! It makes me laugh sitting here remembering it! lol.

We got home - ate dinner (chicken soup and half a turkey sandwich - and root beer floats for dessert), they took their baths and it was quickly "relax time." I tested my daughter on her spelling words (test tomorrow), set aside tomorrow's clothes and they are right now fast asleep in their beds.

Oh - and that lion up there? My daughter drew it for me.

Life is totally fine right now.

If ...

2009-10-18T15:48:00.003-04:00

... I could hire a bouncer to beat the fuck out someone, I'd pay the money to have said bouncer go get at balloon boy's dad. Did you see this kid blow chunks all over national TV because he was under all sorts of stress. He's a fucking kid! And YOUR kid, you punk ass bitch. And you told him to hide because you were doing it for some show?!? Out of the mouth of babes, boo.

... I could fire any one person at the office, I'd have a hard time picking. But then again, maybe not. Me. I'd pick me. Why save someone ELSE?

... I could choose one food and make it totally NOT fattening, it'd be bagels. I love bagels. Sesame Seed bagels. I want one. Right now. Actually, can I say all breads in general? mmmmmmm carbs.

... I could take on my son's asthma so he didn't have to deal with it, I'd do it yesterday. This is a big one. It's controlled right now, but he still deals with it and I hate it that he has to take all those meds all the time.

... I could bring back someone who is deceased, I'd have trouble deciding. Seriously, I'm not sure. That's a toughie ... do I go for people I'm closest to, or people who were younger? Or do I say fuck it all and bring Luther back?

... I could sate all my curiosities, I'd definitely have to put on the list "interviewing the couple referenced in the video below," and "meeting the person who commented on the video and said:

Dildo on the end of a reciprocating saw is nothing new. Injuries are probably the result of improper construction or improper safety precautions. Done correctly fun can be had by all. Just remember to wear you safety goggles!

(oh, and meeting this kid - he's funny. Not as funny as if Jaded and I were the ones reporting ... but, he's got TONS of potential)

This ain't your song

2009-10-14T16:19:00.001-04:00

Although, I understand why you'd want it to be

AYFKM?!?

2009-10-07T23:26:00.000-04:00

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?
This is an honest to God REAL message sent to me on Adam

is ok i didint mean to be rude imsorry papi i like you andi loved to host manwhats yoru number name and email XXXXXXhere yoaure sosexy cute maculiemahco iwnate dyou love dthat face alotand sorry for typosi recentlyhad catarts eye surgery is healign ilivenorthXXXXXXand XXXXXXandyou iloved thsoe eyes andibet you youarea ana wesoemhugger kiserand imsure abig huge fr shootercorrect i loved to invite youvoer iamofthrusdyapmaftenon whas yorunaenubmer email loved to trade new pics i amas wela film director writerandphotogrpaerh fro 25 years doignthre filsm and two boks oneofmy booksishow tmeet guysinteh internetpapi XXXXXXhere emailedmemore more pcis to XXXXXXXXX@hotmail.comimsorryifisouded rude i didntmeantoidolieteh ruels ihoepwecnamet sexy loved to see you witha footabljersyeandcapmanwof XXXXX very sincerely

Obviously, I've omitted his name and the cross streets of his nearest intersection ... but if you come across a book on how "tmeet guyinteh internet," JACK suggests you save your money. He'll have people thinking, like he had me thinking, that they remind you of a hamburger. (I think he suspects I'm an awesome hugger? *shrug* ) For the record, he's been blocked.

Compound Words

2009-10-06T23:03:00.003-04:00

BULLSHIT

When your momma calls you all out of breath to tell you that she was in the hospital the last four days because she had an asthma attack and has been on oxygen the whole time. You didn't know, your brother didn't know ... no aunts or uncles ... nobody. Because she's a Latina mother and can totally ride the bus for a 40 minute ride to the ER and don't need NOBODY *gasp for breath* because she grown and can do for herself *deep breathing* and who the hell gonna pay for an ambulance *deep breath* when you can inch your way to the fucking bus for free.

ASSHOLE

A boss who constantly tells you "one day" and "hang in there" and totally sucks the ambition out of you by incessantly placating you instead of paying you what you're worth. Oh, and he tells you that you're worth more ... but times are hard, you know. Oh, and he knows that your title will eventually change and you'll get a promotion ... but times are hard, you know. Oh, but here - do two jobs.

Muthafucka

The dude who kept complaining that he had to wait so long to finally meet in person and who agreed that it'd be ok to at least meet for coffee for an hour or so after you drive 3 fucking hours into town ... only to go out to dinner and call while you're in the shower, cleaning off the three hour drive, to say that he's walking into his house and he knows you prolly tired anyway.

Draft Letters to the three aforementioned pains in my ass:

Dear Mom: Seriously, I'll pay for the fucking ambulance. I'll pay in cash ... sell my ass if I have to ... but for the love of all that is good and merciful, please don't do that again! (even though you've done it before and I know this is a moot request)

Dear Boss: Fuck you.

Dear Dude: Fuck you, too.

-JACK

Coming out of the prayer closet

2009-10-01T22:22:00.001-04:00

My Son

2009-09-30T17:39:00.000-04:00

My son and daughter each had a soccer game at 6PM Monday. Damn schedulers. Of course, different fields. So I chose to take my son to his game to make daddy-son time for him. (and for me!) I picked him up at 3PM from daycare for his 6PM game.

We went home to eat and to get his power rangers. He left them at my place and we needed to get them because he was upset about having left them the night before.

"What are we going to do, daddy?"

"Well, we need to do what BOYS do - let's go shave!"

"YAY! Shave!"

He gets a straight edge razor when we shave, but he's not allowed to remove the protective cover from the blade. He lathers up and so do I and I show him how to shave. He's 6, remember.

There's shaving cream all over the place and he asks if the knives hurt on my face.

"Not really, but if little hairs get stuck in there, that gets scratchy - so that's why we keep tapping it and running it under water"

I show him how the hair on my face gets stuck in the blade and he says, "ooohhh"

We shave together and he is getting the hang of shaving in ONE direction - as opposed to rubbing it back and forth all over your check. He watches me and mimics me and gets all of the shaving cream off of his face.

We splash cool water on our faces and wipe clean with a towel. I give him my gillette after shave and he squeals in delight, "My face is shiny!"

"Mine too, look!"

And we laugh at each other's shiny face.

And then I sprayed him with Axe body spray. He thought that was the coolest - and then sprayed it all over his stomach until it ran down his belly is streams. Whatever - waste it, boo - it's so worth it.

We bought his friend's birthday present - he picked out a power rangers halloween costume for himself ... and then we sat in the car and play nintendo DS against each other for 30 minutes until his game started. It was tie.

Damn Mario ... how the hell I REALLY have to work to play against a child?!? UGH

But, whatever - that's my little man.

Daddy's little girl

2009-09-29T02:04:00.003-04:00

I don't care if she's 7 - she's still my little girl.

One of my son's bestest friends turns six on Tuesday and his friend's mom wanted him to come over and spend the afternoon there. I decided it was a good idea and touted it as an opportunity to spend daddy-daughter time with my little girl. She was all about it.

She got to choose whatever she wanted - to my surprise, she chose bowling. As I thought about it, I realized that the last two times I had daddy-son time, I took my son bowling and putt-putting (six year old boys and gold clubs = a STRAIGHT mess, btw), so I think she wanted to have her turn bowling with daddy. It's totally not her thing, though - we got one game in and she was frustrated. It was sweet of her though.

We went to dairy queen and had lunch - she had some chicken strips and ended with a chocolate dipped soft serve cone. I had a BLT.

We ended up at this place called Kiln Creations - they have a myriad of figurines and things all molded and stuff - all white. And you get to paint it with a wide selection of paints. They then heat it in the kiln for you and you come back and get your glazed porcelain thing. We chose a heart shaped box, chose our paint colors and went to town. It will make a perfect jewelry box for her.

My daughter is quite artistic and loves to draw and paint and color and tells me that her art teacher calls her one of the best artists in the school. So, I thought this was a perfect way to spend time with her doing something SHE liked, instead of bowling.

We sat at this large square table - only she moved the stools side by side so we were on the same side of the table. We sat touch close and painted, making a big 'ole mess of this jewelry box. (I'll never understand how to use stencils properly) She chose the colors and we just chatted and talked about art and about what she was going to put in the box.

"Do you think you'll put your jewelry in this?"

"No - I have to find something more special."

"Why's that baby"

"Cuz we made it together."

I love the shit out that girl.

I've been reading this book on being a good dad and it's totally made me feel like garbage. One of the suggestions is to really make moments with your children and make one-on-one time on a regular basis - so I admit that I was really trying to do the right thing by my daughter while my son ran around yelling like a maniac with his little friend. We strolled down the street holding hands and talking and I really was focused on listening to what she had to say.

The text talks about leaving a legacy for your children, so that they will grow old remembering their days with their father (because absent fathers BLAH BLAH BLAH, you know the statistics, I'm sure) so the other day I asked my daughter a simple question:

"When you're a grown up and you think about being a little girl - what will you remember about daddy?"

"Your cuddles, and that you always tell me I'm the best daughter in the whole wide world."

She asked to sleep in my bed that night - guess who DIDN'T say no?

A week in the life ...

2009-09-27T00:03:00.002-04:00

I drove to Chicago on Sunday night of last week thinking about the fact that it had been 9 weeks since I got laid. So, yuh - I was overdue. Monday night - I did the deed ... got that out of my system, and kept it moving.

I have this idea in my head that I should really keep my business away from home. I don't bring dudes to my house - I usually go to theirs. That means that I must have a safety plan in place. So, Jaded already had this boy's address. Someone must ALWAYS know where you are when you're out creeping.

So, we get the deed done (it wasn't bad, actually - I enjoyed myself) and he tells me to call him. I nod, but of course I have no intention of doing any such thing. I got in, got off and got out. Why is that such a hard fucking concept nowdays. You're my Au Revoir Nigga ... so au revoir, nigga.

On Wednesday I really wanted to go out to the bars - the gay bars. It was one of those weeks. I just needed to step outside of myself, get out of my own way and have a good time. So my roommate and I end up at this place called Jackhammer - I read about it in another blog and was interested in seeing it. Of course, it was a Wednesday night and you could count the men up in there and that was actually kind of nice. After three drink and two games of pool, we went to The Anvil.

At the Anvil, more of the same - Wednesday, few dudes ... very just perfect. And a dude there by himself passed out on the back porch where I went to smoke. Some other dude walks over and says he's been macking on this passed out fool all night. I was confused by what this White dude meant but then he leaned over and started making out with the dude that was so passed out he had no idea what was going on.

I told my roommate that I was leaving and went inside. 1) I don't know the passed out dude and how the hell you gonna go out drinking alone and pass out? 2) I don't know creepy kissing dude and I just wanted out. So I went inside. Left them there to do I don't care what.

Back outside a little bit later it turns out one of the dudes we were talking to about how to make pot brownies (apparently, you saute the weed and get the THC into the oil and strain it to use the oil in the brownie - who knew?!) actually lived next door. So, he asked us to his place to eat pot brownies and my roommate and I left with him.

I made it clear that I wasn't going to eat any. I haven't had weed in 12 years and this was not the way to get back in the habit, in some dude's house I just met.My roommate had one while I played with Frank's cat. Eventually, we left. My roommate didn't feel the weed ... must not be the right way to make it.

On Friday I drove back to Indy, took my kids out for pizza ... and then headed to the ER to get the staple removed from my son's head. They came at him with a pair of scissor looking things with clamps on the end. My son didn't like it. He was freaking out ... I held him down and the staple came out with an OW!" out of his mouth. My daughter came back in right after talking about "I heard him say OW when it came out so I knew it was over" (She had to stay outside while we got it done)

Saturday - daughter's soccer game at 9am. Son's soccer game at 3pm. Some scheduler somewhere is laughing it up to the stucco ceiling, I'm sure. I slet all afternoon between games.

Then we went to run errands. I bought clothes I didn't need. But I like them.

It's amazing the extra-curricula activity you can pack into six days ... amazing.

A Trip to the ER

2009-09-20T01:04:00.004-04:00

Wanna know what happens when you approach a 6 year old with this here device? Well, Let me tell you ...

... but I have to start from the beginning.

While working on my Masters degree I looked forward to completing it to work for some online university to teach. Earlier today I decided that I needed to bring that intention to fruition. Well, that and my boss has been aggravating me so I was looking at some full time opportunities too. (I sent out one resume - wish me luck!)

The kids were in their grandma's bed watching TV in the other room. They were laying there watching cartoon network and I was looking for better ways to support them. We had already been to my daughter's soccer game at 9 am, and then to my son's game at 1:30 pm (fuckers can't schedule ANYTHING right - next Monday, they both play at 6PM in two different parks!), I had baked a ham (left that bad bitch on 180 degrees for 18 hours) and cut half of it up for my ham and 15-bean cajun soup ... it was a full day and the kids were chillin just fine while I surfed www.indeed.com (the best job search engine I can think of) ...

that is, until there was a loud bang ... followed by my son's wailing.

We walked towards each other in the hallway. He was holding his head and my daughter was right behind him looking ghostly talkin' about "it was an accident! it was an accident!"

I held my sons head for him while asking what happened - and then I removed my hand to find it bloody. and not just tinged with blood. BLOODY. May daughter saw my hand and proceeded to freak the fuck out. At that moment, my mind began racing ...

... omg, he's bleeding!

... omg, she's freaking out!

... omg, i'm home alone with two kids!

... how the fuck do I get him to the hospital if he has to be in a car seat in the back and I'm the only adult who has to be in the front doing the driving?!

... Let me walk him to the sink in the bathroom

... Gotta grab a hand towel first

... cold. Cold water. The water has to be cold.

... soak the towel in cold water - cold compresses. Stop the bleeding. That's gotta be first

... if this daughter of mine doesn't stop screaming IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I might lose it

... can't lose it - this hand towel is soaked with blood. Cold compresses. Cold compresses.

... Can't call grandma - she's working a double. Can't call the ex - she's working a 10 hour shift. I gotta take him to the hospital ... bleeding's gotta stop first though. Cold compresses.

... omg, we're all back in our PJ's!

... bleeding has slowed. walk him to the kitchen to get ice.

... daughter has to get dressed. "Go get dressed!" "Why, daddy?" "Cuz we're going to the hospital!" "Hospital?! No! I'm not going!"

... omg, this hospital's gonna need the defibrillator for me

... At the top of my lungs, "YES YOU ARE! GET IN YOUR ROOM NOW, AND. GET. DRESSED. AND FAST!"

... ice. ice. ice. ice. Inside wet towel, the cold will transfer well. Put the bloody hand towel, packed with ice now, back on his head.

... daughter's dressed but she's running around freaking out with her laces untied. That's all I need, "TIE YOUR SHOES. NOW!"

... Leave son holding his own cold compress so I can get dressed. I change.

... I have to call their mom

... I have to get dressed

... I have to drive to the hospital

... I have to get the kids in the car

... I'll call on the way

... GIRL, GET IN THE CAR ... NOW!

... Carry son to car - strap him in ... fuck his shoes. I'll carry him in.

... Call ex on the way ... no answer. Figures. Leave pleasant message "Hey - she pushed him off the bed and he hit his head on the coffee table - it bled. On way to ER. If you call and phone is off, we're still there - they don't let you keep it on in the ER."

... Drive to Free Valet at the hospital.

... Get out car with kids, leave keys in ignition

... Don't stop to talk to any valet - I don't give a fuck WHAT they do with the car. Rush into hospital and into ER

... Sit son on counter with bloody hand towel packed with ice and stand there with daughter looking ghostly and worried.

Made it.

Whew!

From thud in the other room to arrival at ER = less than 15 minutes, including cold compresses to wait for the bleeding to subside. I wasn't playin no games.

Triage asks me if their mom has custody, since it's her Insurance card. "Yes, she has primary physical custody - we share joint legal"

"ok"

So, why did the OTHER bitch in there start quizzing me about how to pronounce my son's name. And his middle name. And his last name! It's *MY* fucking last name too, carajo! And then his date of birth.

... if this bitch don't stop asking me stupid questions, HER head gon need stapled too

The doc comes into our room (when we finally get there) and takes a look ... will need one staple she says ... I figured, I said.

At this moment, fear grips my son like Amy Winehouse grips a 40. He begins wailing - and the doc and I discuss whether or not to give an injection to numb the area first. I consider ... and decide that the drive home will be better if numbing medicine is doing its thing.

I send my daughter out of the room. Get out and shut the door, I say.

Two nurses and I have to hold down the little fucker - the wound is flushed with saline solution 5 times ... why? Because he keeps squirming and we wanna make sure it's clean. Solution of saline and blood drains all over me - I don't care.

WAILING

injection of Novocaine

WAILING

staple

WAILING

and more WAILING

The two nurses and I release our restraint and he relaxes

"All done, see?"

.. and my daughter returns from having picked out a new get well blanket with one of the other nurses. And some stickers.

The ex wife and I meet at my house - I from the hospital and she from her job.

"Better you than me," she says.

bitch.

Reporters Slay Me

2009-09-18T00:07:00.000-04:00

Caption Contest (cuz my blog needs some levity)

2009-09-11T21:26:00.002-04:00

You know the rules - you get to create a caption for this photo (taken last year by JACK's camera on Chicago's Red Line) and submit it in the comment section. Happy captioning!

Earth is man

2009-09-08T19:46:00.001-04:00

I was sitting in my patio, smoking. The night not quite dark enough due to the lamppost out back on some telephone pole and the occasional airliner making its way to the airport some 20 miles away on the other side of town. The sound of the engines flying by periodically doesn't actually bother me - I grew up so close to LaGuardia Airport that when a plane flies over my house, high enough to still look like it radios to some neighborhood kid's remote control, the sound comforts me. Sometimes, if they fly just right, I can see the planes through my skylights when I lay on my living room couch. But on this night, I was in my patio ... thinking.

There I was, a small indecipherable spec in the expanse of earth. Did you know the radius of earth is 6,999,125 yards - that's like 70,000 football fields. The fucking thing weighs 6,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms - and I'm complaining about 20 pounds! But overweight or no, I lived through a week that epitomized a cliche: I had the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I got to thinking about the weight of the world, though - and about how it's the attributes of earth itself (gravity) that determines how much it weighs. Floating out in the expanse of space - it weighs nothing. Nothing at all.

So you see - it's a matter of perspective. I refuse to feel like my job, my kids, my responsibilities, my finances, my car, my mortgage, the recession and blah blah blah all weigh 6,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 kilograms. If I'm to believe that the Lord hung the sun in place and made the oceans and birds and shit - then I'm also to believe that he wants me to realize that the weight of the world is nothing.

And sitting there filling my lungs with tar and nicotine, while a plane flew over the house, I let it go. I let the week go - I let the stress go. I simply gave it over to the Lord.

Truth is - that job did not give me my joy ... and that job cannot take it away.

And in that thought it came to me - how man is very similar to earth. Like ozone, a tough skin wards off all sorts of cancerous nonsense ... and deep within us, we each possess the the busying things that make us who we are. Oceans ebb and flow, cars and trains and planes travel to and fro, magma and lava come and go ... much like the biological, emotional and psychological activity within us stays in constant flux. And more importantly ...

It's the gravity WITHIN the man that determines the man. All of the external weights and measures that try to weigh me down and define me amount to nothing.

Nothing at all.

0.

Soup to nuts

2009-09-04T22:37:00.009-04:00

Life's been a bit hectic as of late - I attribute it to the universe's attack on my endeavor to lose weight. Damn devil. But, yeah - so work has been crazy: CA-RAY-ZEE, ok? This week in particular was busy - my son's birthday, a drive to chicago, three 9+ hour days, a 4 hour day and a drive back to indianapolis ... blah blah blah.

You know how you could handle work if you had one project to do and only one project and that you wouldn't have to deal with another project until this first project is done? How, you wish you could have both kids in sports and they could somehow NOT have their fucking games at the same time? Life never loads evenly ... EVER.

Life is like some Chicago alley dumpster. That's really what I'm trying to say.

A few weeks ago, I packed my bag to go to Chicago. I was in a black/grey mood - so I didn't pack any khaki's, just black dress slacks. All my socks: black. All my draws: black. And my roommate's cat?

WHITE

And this little mother fucker will attack you and literally BITE you ... cuz he's playing. Bitch is still a kitten. Mother fucker bit me pretty good the other day and I find out ... short-haired house cats slide pretty far on hardwood. No, seriously, they do!

But the cat needs some serious home training. I'm about to just tell my roommate that his cat is about to get hisself a lesson. The other day, he was on the dining room table ... roommie asked me to get him down. So, I grabbed a water bottle and sprayed him.

ROOMMATE: That's spray cleaner

ME: oh. well, he's wet now.

You might think I'm being hard on the cat. But I'm not - I'm SOOOO not. Wanna know why?

Because this is my papasan chair.

I mean, look at him. The little bastard all ON my footstool and turns his back to me. He really doesn't give a fuck that there's white cat hair all over the cushion - doesn't care. I'm about to line the footstool padding with double sided masking tape ... When I do - I'll let you know how it goes.

I'm not so smart sometimes

2009-08-28T12:37:00.005-04:00

I realized I needed more labels. My co-worker keeps them in her file drawer on the left side of her cabinet. So, not wanting to bother her, I figured I'd just go get them myself - and since she was at her desk, I thought it appropriate to ask.

JACK: Jessica, can I look through your draws?

Jessica: I'm gonna need you to leave, come back - and try again.

JACK complied.

On Target

2009-08-25T17:27:00.002-04:00

I played a lot of darts in college. It wasn't something I grew up doing, though. It's just not a sport that nuyoricans play in The Big City. Of course, we're very well accustomed to sharp objects (machetes, butcher knives, box cutter - you know, the usual) but darts always made me feel kinda woozy - those metal ones that pierced through cork and made that thud sound just took a lot of getting used to. This picture here reminds me of that one time EVER I actually made a hat trick. I was stoked ... in the typical, primal masculine way - like I could've beat my own chest and roared.

(Actually, I think I may have)

But anyway - that's not the point of this post. I have been watching what I eat (I had tilapia stir fry last night, and a turkey burger with steamed veggies for lunch today) and actually wen to the gym for my 30 minutes of cardio last night!

I feel like my mind is set squarely on this goal now. It's really something I want to do (again) ... but this time, I kinda want to take the weight off and actually KEEP it off. I plan to go tot he gym again tonight ... the 2nd of my promised 3 visits to the gym this week.

So, I'm doing it - and I'm a need someone to egg me on and threaten my well-being if I don't make it to the gym 3 times this week. readddyyyy ... GO!

That Bitch got a problem - THIS Bitch gonna fix it

2009-08-22T21:15:00.002-04:00

Lord Jesus - Jesus, please ... I'm a seriously need some You right now. I don't know what else to do, only that I need to cool down a bit before I proceed with whatever it is I have to do ... Lord Jesus - Jesus, please keep me. Keep me. You hearing me? KEEP ME.

That friend of my baby momma who thinks she's my babies' parent, who likes to undermine me and tries to usurp my parental authority ... I'm a need you to control the venom in my fangs right now because it's in quantity overflowing and in bitterness SHARP. And I will NOT let this control me.

But yuh - I'm a need help.

I just need some help trying to at least SEE the other perspective - why this woman would show up to my childrens' soccer game today (while their momma was working) and not speak a word to me ... like, what is her perspective, so that I better understand.

And what is the perspective over there that led her to walk right by me, say nothing and approach my daughter to say, "you need to get a jacket on because you're sweaty and it's cold."

Excuse me! Excuse me ... I'm, like, totally RIGHT HERE.

So, my daughter comes up to me and says "daddy, I need a jacket because I'm sweaty and its cold."

"Did ***** say that to you?"

"Yes"

"Baby, you're fine - we're going right to the car. Come on."

So, two hours later there she comes again to now my SON'S soccer game (again, baby momma still at work) and she again wanna sit there with her camera on the other side of the field and not. say. a. word. to me.

So, I walk over there - and as I approach her she smiles and says hello. (As if it was my responsibility to approach her and say hello)

"Hi, XXXXX. Did you tell (my daughter's name) that she needed a jacket."

"Yuh - it was cold and she was sweating"

"I still feel like we need to not send messages through the kids - we should talk directly"

"I didn't send any message"

"yuh, ok - but we still need to be able to talk directly"

"OK!" she exclaimed as if it was final.

So, I turn around to go back to the other side of the field where I was - and she mutters, "she DID need a jacket though."

(Oh, bitch - so RIIITTTEEE you weren't trying to undermine me AT ALL, right?)

"Nope. She didn't," I said not turning around.

And then I turned right around, looked her square in the face and said, "Really. She DIDN'T"

And I went about my way - half mad at myself for not losing my mind on her and half proud of myself for not showing my ass in front of the SCORES 1st graders all playing soccer there.

As soon as the game was over - she packed up her chair and left - didn't say goodbye to me or the kids ... and she was in her car long before the kids all finished running the line, high fiving every player on the opposing team and saying "good game" about a dozen times.

AU REVOIR

LATER THAT NIGHT (a few minutes ago)

My daughter asks me which wig I like on her doll. I said the one with long hair. She smiled.

"That doesn't surprise you does it?" I asked with a smirk.

"Nope. Cuz you like girls with long hair." (I told her this after she convinced her mother to cut off her long hair and let her walk around with a bob)

"Right"

"XXXXX said that's YOUR problem."

Lord Jesus - Jesus, please ... I'm a seriously need some You right now. I don't know what else to do, only that I need to cool down a bit before I proceed with whatever it is I have to do ... Lord Jesus - Jesus, please keep me. Keep me. You hearing me? KEEP ME.

Mantras kinda work

2009-08-22T17:02:00.003-04:00

So, there were a few times this week when I just decided to indulge in the empty calories ... but not in the "eat until the store doesn't have any more" sort of way. I wanted a kit kat after dinner ... and I had it, accounting for the calories I was eating. And every day since my new mantra I have stayed below 2,000 calories every single day. The result was me, minus 1 pound.

I know it's meaningless in a way - but if that was my week WITHOUT going to the gym (seriously, I watched everything and counted every calorie and I still didn't work out AT ALL), it's motivated me to try it again next week (< 2,000 calories per day) AND go to the gym thrice.

I'm not even trying to start large. My goal is to go to the gym three times and each time do 30 minutes of cardio.

(I'm an enigma in that I so love cardio and prefer it to weight training)

That's it ... I can do a week of 2,000 calories, so I'll do that again. And will add three itty bitty 30 minutes cardio sessions this week.

I'll report my findings in about 7 days.

That's it - I've HAD it!

2009-08-18T18:21:00.004-04:00

My last blog post was a glimpse into something deep within me that I have been dealing with and not really sharing with anyone. For all of the smiling and laughing I do, I've not exactly felt all jolly and shit lately. For a few months now I've just been trudging along - maintaining, as it were.

Nothing's really fallen apart - the kids still love me and I'm still a good daddy, albeit cranky at times. But you know what, they're amazing resilient, them little fuckers ... you just tell them that daddy's cranky and just wants to lay on the couch and they really do figure out some imaginative game to play and allow me my space. I love that about them ... that it's the result of a few ridiculous tirades of mine is a whole 'nother issue and that's not the point.

Work really hasn't fallen through the cracks, although sometimes I wish I could fake a debilitating ailment that would keep me out of work but still keep me limber enough to lay back, feet to Jesus and continue to keep Trojan Company going (oh don't judge and act like you don't have a family member who's doing that shit right the fuck now!) ... yet, I still gotta work and although it's maddeningly busy (they cut 1/3 of the staff and we still have some 3000 people coming to a convention next month - right, THAT kind of busy) I've not let anything get too totally out of whack.

Then there's the love life - totally (and STILL) nonexistent ... so, PAR in the love department.

So, although nothing is completely gone to shit, everything is just enough off-kilter to cause an anxiety spike ... I feel like I'm that man on TV spinning plates on dowels of various lengths (heights?) and several of them are teetering on the brink of a certain death (by shatter), wobbling perilously on their pedestals waiting for the one lonely me to come save it. Nothing's fallen down off no wooden dowel, but they all WANT to fall, and they're all just laughing at me as the audience squirms audibly while I break sweat to ensure I keep everything spinning.

Too many parts of my life are wobbly. Chief among them ... my health. There was a time when I was at the gym 4 times a week and religiously watching what I ate, to the tune of 1800 calories per day. I did this for 10 months ... EVERY day counting calories ... and going to the gym religiously.

It was the first time in my adult life that I actually felt good, free from moodiness and depressive cycles, free from that annoying wedge of fat that reminds me I'm out of shape every time I tie my shoes ...

And then Jaded said something to me that took root somehow. She said, "you need to have control issues." And yesterday when I woke up from my Pringles(tm) coma, I realized something ...

I don't want to eat like this anymore. I don't. I control my body - my body does not control me.

And with that chrisette-like epiphany, I developed that as mantra. I control my body - my body does not control me.

And I said it today when I was choosing breakfast ... and said it today while I was choosing an item off the fast food menu (I went for roast chicken instead of the yummy looking deep friend chicken breast sandwich with bacon) and I didn't eat but a handful of fries, leaving the majority of them in the bag.

I control my body - my body does not control me.

And today, at 5:36 PM CDT, I have so far consumed only 1,150 calories. And anything more than 650 calories ain't making into me for dinner because

I control my body - my body does not control me.

(when that mantra makes it into my sex life, I'll let you know. It might shut JACK down for a while if it does. As my alter ego, JACK is totally a whorish fucker who says things like "feet to Jesus!" JACK's a sacrilege.)

I control my body - my body does not control me.

Tipping the scales

2009-08-17T00:23:00.005-04:00

I can't seem to get a handle on this eating thing. It's all I do ... and I can't quit it.

I ran across a new word. abstemious. It's a ROCKIN' new word and I love it. Except it's the complete opposite of my current "shovel food into my mouth" dilemma.

I worked so hard after my divorce to shed 30+ pounds (then another 10 during that one week of pure unadulterated hell, but that's another story) ... and the instant I got back into a relationship, I stopped going to the gym ... and slowly, the weight came back on.

The truth of the matter is that I stopped going to the gym during that week of pure, unadulterated hell ... because losing 10 pounds in one week isn't cute. And if I went to the gym, I would've ended up in the hospital. When I say I wasn't eating that week ... trust me - I wasn't eating.

But anyway - when I got back into a relationship, it was a good enough excuse not to go back to the gym. So, it's HIS fault - THAT mother fucker.

So, here I am wanting now to lose 30 pounds again ... and yet, this evening I had two bowls of cereal, two brownies and a bowl of beans.

Not in that order, but who cares - and shut up about the beans ... I'm Puerto Rican ... that's comfort food, carajo!

OMG! There's rice in that there kitchen. Ok, I might have to tie myself to the radiator.

except I have central air.

shit!

I swear there's a santero somewhere reveling in the mess I am right now.

a MESS, I tell you.

and then I was only kidding about that santero but there WAS that one dude I messed with who's boyfriend is a santero and I went through with it anyway.

fuck.

I bet it's HIS fault too.

Because, let's face it - I need someone ELSE to blame for my eating a lot and moving very little.

So, it's the ex- and the santero ex of the dude I messed with when the santero wasn't his ex- yet.

Yuh. I need to bathe in holy water ...

... do they have that at the bath house?

Stress is NOT a killer

2009-08-11T21:54:00.005-04:00

I was sitting in my patio this morning (yes *IN* my patio; it's enclosed) and a peaceful Monarch butterfly fluttered by the partially open storm door. You should know that the storm door STAYS partially opened because for several years the gutter up there would overflow and soak the wooden door frame ... yes, for years. So the swollen wooden threshhold won't allow the door to close completely. The gutter has since been replaced with a wider downspout and it usually doesn't overflow unless foliage has blocked the downspout - I've had to go out there with a step stool ... out in your typical midwestern rain/hail/OMGAFUCKINGTORNADO storms to get soaked and dirty reaching into that downspout to stop the water from coming in.

But anyway, I've digressed. This monarh butterfly, beautiful and serene, fluttered by and toyed with the idea of coming indoors. But it inspected the door and its surroundings and continued to flutter peacefully outdoors above my freshly mowed lawn. The air smelled of cut grass and summer as I watched the butterfly, smoked my cigarette and remembered that those mother fuckers live like two weeks tops!

So, I had an epiphany sitting there - let me stop complaining about all the financial stress, and the anxiety and all the nonsense ... it's there to ensure I live. I have been dealing with this emotional yoyo for a while now and at times I've felt so tense that I just KNEW that the marrow in my bones was going to spew out of me, like it was the effluent of some wastewater plant ... like the one that discharges out into Lake Michigan - you know, the one that closes all the beaches for the filth?

Who cares! If I had it as easy at that butterfly, I'd flutter from today through Thursday into some pesudo bliss before I gave up the ghost, too soon to enjoy the good things I've enjoyed in life so far.

Speaking of which - I need to buy more lube.

Leroys

2009-08-07T22:48:00.002-04:00

A woman walks into the downtown welfare office, trailed by 15 kids.

"WOW," the social worker exclaims, "are they all yours?"

"Ya they are all Mine," the flustered momma sighs, having heard that
Question 20 thousand times before.

She says, "Sit down Leroy." All the children rush to find seats..

"Well,"says the social worker, "then you must be here to sign up. I'll need all your children's names."

Well, to keep it simple, the boys are all named Leroy and the girls are all named Leighroy.

In disbelief, the case worker asks, "Are you serious? They're ALL named Leroy?"

Their momma replied, "Well, yes-it makes it easier..

"When it's time to get them out of bed and ready for school, I yell,'Leroy!'
An' when it's time for dinner, I just yell 'Leroy!' an they all comes a runnin.

"An' if I need to stop the kid who's running into the street, I just yell Leroy' and all of them stop. It's the smartest idea I ever had, namin' them all Leroy."

The social worker thinks this over for a bit, then wrinkles her forehead and says tentatively, "But what if you just want ONE kid to come, and not the whole bunch?"

"Then I call them by their last names."

On some grown shit

2009-07-30T11:46:00.003-04:00

I believe that part of being an adult is being able to let go of petty things, truly not giving a fuck what people think or say about you and coming to grips with the notion that vengeance is a retarded notion that isn’t really worth your time. The problem with all of this is that you have to keep going through shit in order to prove that you can handle it all like an adult. You know what I mean? Like, you can’t very well know that you’re able to let go of stupid shit unless stupid shit happens to you.

For instance – my friend Shalaria. She’s got some stupid immature beef with me and would rather put me on blast on one social network or another because she mad I’m through with the bitch. That shit don’t make no sense to me – meanwhile …

Bitch makes me laugh. I had no idea I had such an impact or was that important. I really wish she would just get a grip and not give a fuck. Like me – and my grown ass, I don’t give a fuck.

Do you see ME putting her on blast all over blogger? Nooooooooo. No you don’t.

Cuz I can let things go.

Do you see ME trying to get revenge and saying stupid shit about Shalaria? Things like she’s immature and way too concerned about what the fuck I’M doing when she should really just be living her own life? Noooooooo. You don’t.

Cuz I don’t do the whole vengeance thing.

I’m much too grown to be dealing with this nonsense. TOO GROWN.

Do you see me losing sleep over what she’s thinking about me or saying about me or blogging about me or tweeting about me??? Nooooooooo.

But if you hear or read my name come out her mouth, let a nigga know.

Cuz I’m grown.

A Daughter's Dad

2009-07-19T22:51:00.005-04:00

First, I need to vent about the fact that I do not have a photo for this blog entry. I did my usual google search based on the topic I am blogging about and tpyed in 'dad daughter pic' into the search field. The list of search results was riddle with porn! While I can understand that in the "be careful what you type into the search field" sort of way, I'm just disgusted that the sanctity of the father-daughter relationship is so tarnished that even google can't escape the mockery and depravity that the world has made of the most important relationship in a woman's life.

I could tell that my son was enjoying the opportunity to tattle on his sister - his body language, the slick look on his face (the one with that one side of his mouth ever so slightly curled upwards) and the subsequent "act like I didn't do a damn thing just now" demeanor ... it was all there.

Don't be fooled, parents KNOW. Parents ALWAYS know. And you parents out there need to back me up ... we know out children.

However, the reality of what my son had to say drew his indiscretion so far into the background that I've not even bothered to deal with it - and I won't. I had to delicately inspect the situation because if it didn't have the emotionally equivalent backlash that does the disarming of a ticking time bomb, nothing does. "She said you love me more," my son tattled.

"No, I didn't!" my daughter exclaims. And as the proverbial seconds counted down on the read out screen, I slowly went to work separating blue from red wire in an effort to diffuse this thing.

She denied it for a while until I was able to confront her when her brother wasn't around. "Well, you never call HIM names and when you call ME names, I feel like you love him more."

"Wait - what names do I call you?"

"Like, 'drama queen' and stuff like that."

In my defense, that child is the epitome of the drama queen - if she gets a scrape on the knee, she reacts as if her leg's been cut off ... she screams like mad, raising her voice to decibles that challenge the Ice Cream Truck, whenever she's fighting with her brother ... and all that. But I totally had NO idea she was feeling like I loved her less. Fuck ... fuckfuckfuck!

"Baby, you need to know that you are my favorite girl in the entire world - your brother is my favorite BOY in the entire world. I don't love you less or love him more. I love you both the same. I had NO idea that it was bothering you like this, so I promise you right now that I will never do that again. Not on purpose. If I forget and say a name by accident, just remind me that I'm not supposed to ... because sometimes daddy can forget. But it's just cuz I forget things, not because I don't love you. Because I do love you - more than I can even tell you."

"ok"

I kissed and loved on her and all that. And she asked me not to tell anyone. She said she would be embarrassed. And I promised her that I wouldn't. Now, I'm telling my blog family, but I'm gonna go with "that's different" because

Daddy needs to vent too sometimes
Her issue is that our immediate family would find out and she would have to discuss it again, and
No one reading this would ever tell her I vented about it

Life Lesson

This happened nearly two weeks ago and I have spent a lot of time sorting through my feelings about it. I've experienced some dissonance about it because I am thrilled that I have the relationship with her that I do, that she could discuss it with me and trust that I wouldn't use it to embarrass her. Yet, I'm mortified at myself for being the one who has hurt her feelings. Mortified, I tell you.

So this duality has made me emotional. Tonight she came out of her bedroom and came to me in the living room. She said she looked around her room and felt lonely. Then she crawled on top of me, laid her head on my chest and the 75 pound child drifted off to sleep ... but not before telling me she feels safe when I am holding her.

I'm such a softie for that child. I could've cried right there. One of the other things I've contemplated over the last two weeks is the tendency of today's fathers to abandon their fatherly responsibilities ... and I would be lying if I said I hadn't wondered what it would be like to do that ...

Now, don't get me wrong. I've wondered what it would be like ... but I haven't DESIRED to do so. There's a difference. I don't know any parent who hasn't at least wondered what their life would be like if they didn't have children ... it's not that you don't want them, it's just that you wonder. You know, like ... I wonder what life would be like if my parents hadn't moved to Brooklyn when I was 14 (as an example, although I've never lived in Brooklyn).

Anyway, I continue to work in one city and live in another because of my children ... and after 15 months of driving back and forth weekly, I'm still not tired of it. It's amazing, but I never once have yet dreaded the drive. So, while i understand the "what if" mind game one plays ... i do NOT understand actually walking away from your fatherly responsibilities ... I seriously don't get it. And I don't WANT to get it. Despite all the nonsense my ex-wife has put me through, once to the point where I had to fight to maintain custody of my children, I have never EVER wanted to leave them.

And this evening was one of those times that I understood the importance of a father in a little girl's life. Dad makes her feel safe ... takes away the feeling of loneliness, even if she was just in the other room laying there looking at the walls. And just WOW at the thought of her feeling lonely and wanting her daddy and my not being there.

OMG .. men ... MEN, please be men ... and be a daddy once you've become a father. Please. There's likely a little girl just waiting for you to take away the lonely ...

... God help the nigga who wanna step to my little girl to fill that void. I'll have to hurt his feelings, if nothing else.

... God help the daddy-less little girls who thinks a nigga might just be able to take that lonely away. That they not become the result of someone's twisted google search.

... and God help the father who refuses to be a daddy. (or strike him down. Real Hard, too)

JACK

Sing me the news, dammit!

2009-07-12T19:26:00.001-04:00

Wordsmithing

2009-07-10T23:40:00.002-04:00

Modern-day vernacular keeps the people at Meriam-Webster busy, I'm sure. I mean, do we add "LOL" to the dictionary, or not!? No, we don't ... but FRENEMY, yes.

Frenemy (1977): one who pretends to be a friend but is actually an enemy.

That shit is important to spell out. And Oxford didn't let me down with this other new, and equally importnat, entry:

Sock puppet (1959): a false online identity used for deceptive purposes.

And here you thought it was when you put your hand in a sock and made it talk. Silly minions, I mean ... Americans.

But there ARE some entries I'm proud of ...

Earmark (15c): a provision in Congressional legislation that allocates a specified amount of money for a specific project, program, or organization.

THAT shit is important to understand. Besides, kids should TOTALLY be using actual book marks to hold their places when reading ... especially library books.

And how about THIS new entry?

Reggaeton (2003): popular music of Puerto Rican origin that combines rap with Caribbean rhythms.

I'm proud, in a "OMG, it say puerto rican in that definition" yet "hasn't that style of music really run its course" sort of way.

There's more here if you're interested.

JACK

Sucking it out of me

2009-07-09T22:34:00.003-04:00

Do you know that family member that is humanity's equivalent of a blood-sucking leech? The one who always manages to have a need for something (usually money) and they happen to need it RIGHT NOW? Every time, it's an emergency ... like, if I don't get 400 bucks to the landlord by 5PM, I'm getting evicted! And it's 4:35 PM.

Or, they need steel toed boots because they finally got a job, but it's at a factory and they require boots and they can't possibly be expected to buy boots when they need the job in order to make money in order to buy the boots ...

Or their kid need formula and they haven't eaten since noon. And it's 10 PM.

Or they're at your house and their tank is on E and if they don't get gas money they gotta stay the night.

I'm telling you - I'm thru. There's TWO of them mother fuckers around here and I"m THRU. One is quick to say "can you hurry up, I've got things to do" and she's fucking waiting to take you to work in YOUR car so she can have the car to run an errand. The other came over to help with yard work, filled ONE bag with old mulch and left. And there are 22 bags of old mulch back there.

I'm THRU.

I'm cleaning house.

Don't fucking come here no more. Don't ask to stay over. Don't call for milk. Don't fucking let my name fall from your lips ...

when you figure out what gratitude means, call me. but also make sure you've figured out how to give as well as you've perfected the art of taking.

I'm MOTHER. FUCKING. thru.

If I don't put a stop to it ...

2009-07-07T21:15:00.004-04:00

My daughter. I love her so much no language has the appropriate word to fully describe its profundity. The universe knows no depth like the depth of my love for that girl. I tell her ALL the time that I love her more than any girl in the entire world. And, let's face it - I'm gay. My ass ain't lying.

But wool does not shield my eyes from the self-centered, entitled side of her that irks me. She always has to be the first, have the largest piece of cake, the most coins in her little cup from Chuck E. Cheeses, always has to decide who's "it," and manipulates her little brother to swap all the good things he has (i.e. Nintendo DS games) so that they become hers.

I've addressed it before - but today? We were driving back from their baseball practice (don't get me started on the clusterfuck that is the YMCA - that's for another post) and I told them that they had to go to bed right after we got home and took baths. The damn practice is from 7 to 8 pm and by the time I went to Walmart to replace her swimming suit because the other one's strap broke, it was 8:45pm. She asked why.

"Because it's nine o'clock at night," I responded.

"It's nine o'clock at NINE," she said mocking me.

"I said NIGHT."

"No you didn't."

"Yes, honey - I did."

*moment of silence*

"It's 8:forty FIVE," she said with a tinge of sarcasm.

"I will REACH back there and smack you, girl!" I exclaimed, making sure that she knew in no uncertain terms that I was about to whoop her little ass if she so much as SPOKE again.

"You NEED to watch you mouth," I said with finality. And it was quiet all the rest of the way home.

After her bath she came to my room and said, "dad, I'm sorry."

"For WHAT?" I asked flatly.

"For talking back," she sniffled.

"Come here, baby." And she sat on my lap.

I proceeded to detail her behavior the last few days - how she told some kid while they were playing that she was "The Boss." And how at the baseball game she wanted everyone to know she was the OLDEST.

(Do these kids think we don't watch them?!?)

I told her that she needs to stop acting so selfish and that other people want to shine sometimes - that she can't always be the best, or the first, or the oldest or the decider (dub-ya call back, if you remember). Other people need a chance too.

The flood gates opened and she explained that all the kids at daycare treat her like that and her brain makes her want to do the same to other people.

"But just because other people steal - does that mean YOU steal?"

"No."

"If other people use bad words, do YOU say them?"

"No."

You need to always stop and think about how other people feel and remember that they want to be just as special as you do ... and you can NOT continue to put other people down to make yourself feel better.

She cried in my lap for a while and I held her.

And as soon as they're asleep - I'll close my bedroom door and cry myself.

I forgive you

2009-07-03T12:05:00.003-04:00

It turns out that everything I thought to be my past with my first love is actually quite skewed ... in our talks yesterday, we figured out that what we were each made to believe about the other was simply not true. And we were torn apart by a third, kept apart by that third party and now it's all out in the open.

We've accepted our responsibility for it - we were both young and confused and easily manipulated and so, we were. However, we both see that we're better people for having gone through it and we're both stronger than we were ... and we weren't very string back then when we thought we were.

But I am releasing said third party - I cannot live life holding a grudge and being angry because the bondage would be mine and I refuse to live in bondage.

So, PF - I forgive you.

Really. I do.

Smiling,

JACK

BET Music Awards

2009-06-28T23:55:00.004-04:00

F

A

I

L

My First Love called

2009-06-26T10:51:00.000-04:00

I heard his voice. I remember one of the last times I heard it - it was like 2000 or so. When I heard his voice over the phone then, my heart jumped and skipped a beat. Today? It was like he was the neighbor calling to tell me that the dog had gotten out again. It was totally void of that emotion and remorse and heartache.

I guess I really am totally over it. Who knew?!? I thought he would always give me butterflies ... but no. It really is truly something in my past. And at least now I can look back on it fondly, knowing it really was real.

I feel so grown up (I say after having recently posted that I got mad at some nigga and hung up on him)

[but he deserved it, carajo!]

I had to cut our conversation short because my boss was calling on the other line - he texted me and asked what was a good time to call tonight because he would like to keep talking. That was nice - and that I'm not making a big emotional deal out of it (like, omg! he wants to keep talking to me!) is even nicer.

Call anytime - I'd like to keep talking too.

Except if he calls too damn late, I might have to hang up on him too. JACK loves his sleep.

Michael Jackson

2009-06-25T19:52:00.003-04:00

It seems that I'm in the minority again - I really don't care that Michael Jackson is dead. I'm not sad about the music he'll never make and we'll never listen to. I'm not upset that his heart arrested. I'm not upset that attempts to revive him were fruitless. This day was ordained by God before he was born, before the beginning of time - and his time is here.

I have zero compassion for him. never have - His habit of touching children outshines any of his muscial legacy in my eyes. I'm a parent and I take that shit to heart. A friend of mine told me, "but he was acquitted!" My response? "So was OJ."

Such accusations do not follow honorable, respectable people - period. No one is accusing Judge Judy of pedophilia, nor Alex Rodriguez. Know why? Cuz they prefer adults. They and countless others of us do not touch children.

Say what you will about honoring someone in death - I will only do so if they were honorable in life. And since I'm not Christ, I have a list of things that are unforgiveable.

Touching children is one of those things.

I acknowledge that it is not my decision to make - I will let God be God. But whether he rests in peace or no - I don't care.

In more important news - I just sold my old loveseat and chair for $100.00. Cha-Ching!

Hello? Is this thing on?

2009-06-25T00:01:00.001-04:00

No one comments anymore. It's frustrating, especially since READERS convinced me not to quit blogging.

I have a new rule: with the exception of Jaded, don't talk to me about my blog if you haven't posted comments. I'm tired of talking about it - that's why I write it down here.

-JACK

Wait - it's YOU again (The Final Chapter)

2009-06-24T11:59:00.004-04:00

I decided that I don't give a fuck what his current relationship consists of - the fact that he's wanting to reestablish something with ME while he's talking to someone else is really all I need to know.

I asked him to call me the following day so that we could talk. It was late and he was going to bed. "k," came the response text.

He was trying to avoid me the next day - I know he was. He was suddenly real busy. Well, at the end of the day I texted him that it was obvious he didn't have time. And I began to pen an email to him. I needed to call it quits ... via any mechanism, I didn't care.

While I'm writing, he calls. I told him he's unfair. That his contacting me again was selfish, that it wasn't about ME at all, but more about his own conscience. He gets to make contact to make himself feel better about ditching me based on a lie ... but *I* have to rehash all those emotions I felt when he just ceased communicating with me.

He didn't try to contradict me.

I said that my emotions were real and my feelings today are real too. I did confess that I have feelings for him, which is why, I said, he's being selfish. And then he said the thing that nailed the coffin ...

"I can't say that we couldn't eventually be together ...."

Oh, wait - so, because I have feelings for you I'm just supposed to sit by and wait? Really? I'm just supposed to be there for you while you get over your co-dependency with your children, sort out the sexuality issues that you have ... and deal with all the countless other issues you have ... just in mother fucking case?

How aabbbooouuuuutttt - no. Let's try that. I am much too valuable, I said, to sit around and do that. You have a serious problem with your codependency with your own damn kids - you're a great dad, I said, but you are doing them a HUGE disservice, especially that 24 year old who still trying to act out, and you're not preparing them for the real world. And you're doing yourself a disservice too.

He took that amazaingly well, considering how "can't nobody talk bad about my kids" he is. "You're right," "I know," and other affirmations is all he could muster.

I can't do this - my feelings are real and you're selfish. You treated me like discarded trash and now you want to "rescue" me by asking me to lie in wait. No, sir.

This business of calling and texting everyday - asking about how's your day and how're you doing? That's all relationship stuff. The people I consider my CLOSEST friends ... I don't fucking stay on the phone with them, asking them how it's going at that moment. So, that's gonna stop.

"I understand."

and blah blah blah ... and woo woo woo.

I continued on a tirade that he deserved - and he took it. He took it all. Eventually he said that I could call him.

"No. I won't. I'm not making your phone ring - that's the damn lie that got us here, that I fucking called and talked to your son and told him our business. I told you already, I won't be calling."

"ok," he said with a sigh. "Well, it's going to take a lot of work to even establish a friendship."

"Nope. Because I'm not doing it. I'm making NO effort."

"Wow."

And with that wow, it seemed to sink in. Except he wouldn't say bye. "I CAN'T say bye. I just can't do it."

"hmmm," I said with disdain in my voice.

"Nope - i can't - you're going to have to say it because ....."

"Ok. Goodbye."

and I hung up.

Wait - it's YOU again (The Trilogy)

2009-06-23T16:00:00.000-04:00

Yes - he is sort of seeing someone, he tells me - but it's likely not to go anywhere because he has to focus on the kids.

Well, shit - you aren't looking for anything romatically out of ME either, then

That confused me - I mean, why would he call me after all this time if he already moved on? I wracked my brain for a while and it finally dawned on me ... he needed to clear his OWN conscience. He didn't need me to forgive him per se ... he needed to reconnect with me and tell me the truth to deal with his own guilt - and whether I accepted his apology or no, it didn't matter. he still got to get it off his chest.

Well, nigga - I got some shit to get off my chest too.

How the fuck dare you come back at me like this ... INVOLVED with another nigga, looking for my forgiveness? Why the hell do *I* have to deal with this shit all over again? It wasn't enough that I lost you to some bullshit I didn't do and had to mourn losing what could have been a decent relationship over something I couldn't control or have anything to do with? That wasn't enough?

You mean, I get to do it all over again? Joy. I get to hear you apologize, ask for forgiveness and know all about your life all over again ... after 10 months and shit ... but you're talking to someone else and even if I *do* forgive you, I STILL can't have you.

Nice.

VERY nice.

I told him that it's abundantly clear to me that he did not feel for me what I felt for him ... that I was really ready to pursue "us" on an exclusive basis, that I was really into him - and he APPARENTLY wasn't there. And so, I own that I pushed for it too fast, and too hard ... and that his son's antics were quite convenient for him because it gave him an opportunity to nurture his flight response.

He disagreed - said that he was really feeling me and was on the verge of agreeing to pursue things exclusively and then his son hit him with all of that.

Again, how convenient.

He's calling me on a regular basis now - like he was a year ago. And the calls are all 5 minutes or less, like they were a year ago. And during each one of those short conversation, I manage to get in a dinger.

Today, I asked him if his son was helping around the house (they had severe storm damage and were without power for 36 hours) and he said the boy has no choice - he does his share or he gets out.

(bullshit)

and he continued to talk about the progress they need to make.

"It's hard to break out of codependency," I said.

There was a very short pause - almost undetectable - but it was there. The pause before he said, "Yuh, it is."

Whatever - he still needs to hear my mouth about the whole co-dependency issue ... and I will eventually ask about the specifics between him and this dude. Both issue will serve to finalize the closure I need ...

and depending on how those two conversations go, I may be able to agree to continue on this path to restore a friendship - that's what he asked for, incidentally.

Or - I may be ghost.

I'll keep you posted.

Wait - it's YOU again? (Part Duex)

2009-06-22T04:51:00.003-04:00

"heey," he said.

"hey."

His voice sounded familiar, but not in the way you would think. I mean, I tried to remember what his voice sounded like during those 4.5 hours I waited for the phone to ring. I tried to no avail, that is. Seriously, I couldn't remember his voice.

I tried to get in touch with him via email in the months that followed his telling me that he wasn't talking to me anymore. But the last time I emailed him I resolved to let it go completely if he didn't respond. And he didn't. So, I erased his number from my phone and kept it moving. I tried, right?

Well, when I finally DID hear his voice, it was like .. OOOOHHH. Yes, once I heard him speak I remembered. You know how when a word is right on the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite get it? It was like that, but only with a voice.

He proceeded to explain what happened:

His son explained to him that he saw my name on the caller ID and picked up. We had a conversation and he told his dad all the specifics - and he wanted his dad to know that I wasn't allowed to take him away from them. His daughter felt the same way. See, he's a single dad and is raising these two on his own and it was WAY too much for him to fathom that I would talk to his son.

Except, I didn't.

I never, ever called his cell phone and had anyone else pick up the phone. EVER. Apparently, however, his son and daughter picked up on the fact that he was on his way to getting involved and snooped through is call log, found my name and approached their dad with the story above in order to get him to stop pursing anything outside of their immediate family.

And it worked.

I was never given the opportunity to contradict his son's story because he never confronted me. He shut down instead, believed his son without question ... and consequently had no questions for me either. I mean, why would the 24 year old son lie to him?

Oh, I didn't mention his son is twenty fucking four?

Well, he is. He's a grown ass man who's afraid to lose his daddy. I can't fathom that type of thinking, especially considering I come from a home that really didn't give a fuck about the kids. (My mom married my step-father and told us about it three days LATER and also said he was moving in ... and we'd never met him) I left for college at seventeen and I wasn't looking back. By the time I was 24, I was the lead engineer on $68M work of work and live 700 miles away from my parents - so don't ask me to synthesize that one - I can't.

But how did he find this all out, I wondered? (tell me you were wondering that too ...)

Apparently, homeboy is talking to some dude right now. Yes, the same homeboy who wasn't ready for a gay relationship with ME... yuh him. Anyway, the "children" did it again - only this time the 24-year old initiated the call to the "significant other" and said whatever the son said ... and then the son called his father at work to say there was an emergency at home involving the "significant other."

Well, that's how he "found out" that I had done nothing wrong and that he totally shut me out based on a lie.

So, I did forgive him for it - I didn't blame him for believing his son ... after all, I'm a dad too and I'm a protective dad as well. So, I can understand. I'm definitely more confrontational than homeboy is, but then again I wasn't hiding in the closet and just LOOKING for an excuse not to move forward.

But I've got new issues now - I can forgive you for what you did then ... but what about what you're doing now?!? This was turning out to be a multi-call sorting out of issues. Because I've got issues with this ... why are you calling me with this shit - don't you have a man?

You know I asked him that, right?

Wait - it's YOU again?

2009-06-20T16:28:00.004-04:00

In july of 2008, I met a guy I was smitten with almost immediately. We went to the cheesecake factory on the mag mile in Chicago and sat in a booth in the bar, holding hands under the table. It was surreal, how we instantly took to each other - and not in a "i'm totally stroking his dick under the table" kind of way. I mean, my interest was in HIM, not on what he was packing. So much so, I really didn't care what he was packing.

(I know, weird.)

Anyway, he spend the following week calling me several times a day, sometimes just saying he was busy as hell but wanted me to know what he thought of me. I wondered here at JGC if I was on Candid Camera. I really didn't know what to make of it.

In the weeks that followed his job took him to a Naperville, IL and I drove over and spent some time in his hotel room with him. We petted, I admit - but considering all the "encounters" I've talking about in posts past, it's actually meaningful here that we were taking it slow and waiting for later to actually do that damn thing.

Slowly, the calls became less frequent - and while I understood he was extremely busy, it seemed to forecast that things weren't going to go the way I wanted. He mentioned his intent to move out of state and I knew I needed to keep my expectations in check.

I don't recall ever bloggin about how it was that he disappeared from my radar - but, what had happened was ....

I couldn't take it anymore and I came clean about my feelings for him, explained that what I was getting didn't seem like enough, and I really just wanted us to commit to moving forward into whatever the next phase would be and stop the happenstance touching of base whenever one of us permitted our schedules to allow it. It was heavy on him, as he wasn't quite out of the closet and I was pretty much forcing the issue.

Maybe 1 of the suitors I've blogged about since then was still in the closet - I really cannot be bothered with them anymore. And this guy is the reason. He told me that he needed some time to think about it. That he was going out of town with his mom and was going to use that time to really consider what i was saying.

Well, I wait the weekend, and then several days ... and then some more. Eventually he called me back and said, "I'm really not ready."

I was so disappointed ... but I told him that I wanted to be in his life in whatever capacity, because he really was a good guy. He was glad to hear that, he said - he was afraid I would bounce if he said no. So, we agreed to remain friendly.

But something happened.

He wouldn't call me, answer my emails or voicemails and something was up. I hit him up online when I saw him one day and he told me that he was very angry at me ... that it would be a long time before he was able to speak to me.

"ok."

Only it wasn't ok - because I had no idea what I did. I presumed I forced him to really deal with his sexuality before he was prepared to do so. So, I waited.

Nearly 10 months later - this is our text exchange:

"I know I don't deserve any of your time or consideration ... but I just found out that I treated you unfairly and I am very sorry."

Oh my. Really? Is this really happening?

I know. You don't have to forgive me, I just wanted to let you know I was sorry

I do forgive you

I'll call you later

ok

The four and a half hours that followed were the longest ever, until the phone rang, I answered and he said ...

"heey"

No drizzle - Just Deluge

2009-06-18T22:03:00.000-04:00

Fuck the saying that it "pours." This is some real inundation, although PLEASE don't get any ideas, heavens! On June 2, there was a bitch of a storm that came through. It was windy as hell and the hail was about the size of a quarter. And the relentless pounding my house took was incredible. The wind and hail took took tree limbs and leaves right off the trees and scattered vegetation all over the damn place - I hadn't seen anything like it since I flew into Tampa hours after Hurricane Jeane. Except, there aren't any palm fronds in Indianapolis.

Anyway - it sounded like the ice was going to come right through my skylights. It was deafeningly loud in my house as the weather gods laughed and laughed at me pacing around this house, scared like I was 5 and just KNEW that that coat rack with the top hat over there in the dark was a bad, bad man who was going to kill me.

An inspector came out and said I had hail damage to my roof. I thought it fortuitous since the last time this room was re-done was before I owned the house and before the code was updated to say two layers of roof maximum. There're three layers up there. So, I called it in.

Nine Thousand Six Hundred mother fucking Dollars is what the adjuster told me.

What?!?

It just then dawned on me, as the insurance adjuster was speaking to me, that my insurance premiums were going to soar. Of course, right?

Thing is, I spent the last three weeks buying flooring and having it installed in my house to replace 8 year old carpet that withstood the test of two toddlers, and bought new furniture for the living room that had done the same. So, here I am with about $3,000 in store credit cards (because it was no interest, no payment until January if I did it that way) and WHAM!

The roof is on fire (figuratively)

... and I reported it. To the insurance company.

Yay! New roof, at least. And floors!

(for someone else to enjoy when they repo this bitch)

I'm loveable

2009-06-17T17:30:00.000-04:00

Since before the turn of the century, I have been unable to listen to this song:

In the fall of 1997, my ex and I got back together for a spell. I was in his dorm room, on his bed and "Anytime" played on repeat while he made my body feel what it hasn't ever felt again. We slept in each other's arms - well, he slept. I listened to this song the entire night, staring at him sleep in the dark ... tracing his silhouette with my finger tips. In fact, I can still see him if I close my eyes and remember.

After all the nonsense that followed, I was unable to listen to this song. It filled me with intense sadness and would make my eyes well by the fourth beat or so. I have ALWAYS turned the station if the song came on.

I listened to the song today and its impact on me was gone. It's a sweet memmory now that makes me smile - now that I know he loved me like I loved him. I considered this newfound fact in light of something I have known for many years.

I never really felt worthy of love - of being loved. I knew my own propensity to FEEL love, but never really believed that it could exist in anyone else towards ME. If you've followed my writing in The Evolution of Indifference, you know that my mother's ambivalent attitude towards me and my knowing that she really didn't want me would contribute to my feeling that way. But when my first love rejected me ... well, I just knew that meant I wasn't loveable.

I can attribute my crass and insensitive nature to that one thing - that I just knew no one could love me because of something intrinsic, something within me that simply WAS me, that I couldn't change. But when he told me he loved me profoundly, had trouble getting over me for many years, all but chose a career based on who I was ... and that I would ALWAYS be his first love ...

Well, that has changed me - it has profoundly impacted my self image, and forever has changed my view of the past that until this week lack vibrancy and color. It existed in black and white, grainy like an old episode of the twilight zone on a black and white television with rabbit ears and knobs to turn the channels ... as if it were just about to go snowy and undecipherable.

I can now see me in vibrant color, in HD ... and I like what I see. I'm alive inside - an emotional Lazarus has shaken off his wrappings and is smiling at me, FROM within me. And folks - I really am loveable. I really am.

And not just that - but I've always been.

I sit here typing, remembering all of the problems I've identified in all the potential suitors I've blogged about ... and I know that it was all just my attempt to find an excuse not to let them in, and to continue my own self-fulling prophecy: that i'm not able to be loved.

But I am - and I *was* loved. And that means more to me than anyone can know. It instantly changed my view of my college experienced. It has ALWAYS been the dark dreary days of my life, and suddenly - I see and remember the good things ... like working at the writing center, like when he came in one day - scared me because I didn't hear him, and kissed me. I forgot about that. Or like when I was a freshman and my father just left - I loved the freedom at that moment. Or when I dressed up in drag for halloween, or the next year when I wore a big diaper and went as a baby, or when I saw Birdcage ... and even when I got an 87 when I took that calculus exam drunk ... when I didn't study at all for the Rigid Body Dynamics course and got 100. Or when I was so drunk I threw up over the railing outside my dorm - ahhh. Or when I was high and tried to climb the hill ... in the snow ... without gloves. It's amazing I still have operable fingers. Ahhhh yes - college. They WERE good years. They weren't bad, and I don't have to be so bitter anymore.

In short - I know I'll be more forgiving of imperfections, as I want a man who is forgiving of mine.

But that doesn't mean I won't put out and blog about it. It's an epiphany, not a castration!

DAMN

First Love - It gets better

2009-06-16T21:58:00.002-04:00

Well, we've been messaging back and forth on facebook for a few days now and push finally came to shove. And we rehashed what was our relationship some 11 years ago. ELEVEN. Am I a glutton for this kind of punishment? Why did I do this? I'm emotional right now and I'm not even sure what to do. So, I'm here.

He mentioned that he hasn't been in a relationship with a Hispanic since college. I asked, "who?!? me?" and he said yes. I explained that some months ago i began to wonder if he even considered me an ex- because all I can remember is that he left me, without any explanation, because his momma didn't want to accept his sexuality.

He said that of course he did. And what followed I was not prepared for. I don't even know where to start - because I don't know how it all happened. It's all a whirlwind of emotion and I can't remember who said what first and in what order we discussed them. So don't hold me to the specific order.

I came clean first, though. I did say that he was really hard to get over. That surprised him because he figured I went straight right after him and got married and had kids and he just figured I forgot about him. On the contrary, my friend - I just had a good poker face. Since I wasn't out, and was before I met him 21, a virgin and really confused .. I just didn't have anyone to turn to to sort through my emotions and what to do next.

I had no support system - no one knew I was with him, because I was away at college ... and no one knew I even liked men ... and counseling was never really something I even considered ... so i figured it out on my own. As much as I loved that man ... it was real, intense and deep ... and if it didn't work with HIM, then I was just not even going to bother with men at all. That's the stupid decision I came to.

He was floored, it seems. And said, "you never forget your first love." He was sexually active for years before he met me, and I knew that. I knew that I couldn't possibly be his first anything, and I figured I'd let him revel in this thing he has over me. He was my first.

He goes on to detail how we met. He remembered every minute detail ... he was working behind the counter at the campus center and this nigga remembered what I ordered (cheeseburger, curly fries)... that he took great care to make it ... and that my exact words were, "Thanks, man." I find it curious and keep interrupting. "Would you just listen," he says. Ok.

He remembers the first time I kissed him - where it was, who was there, what we were doing. He details it all for me. All of it. And says, "JACK, you were my first love."

WHAT?!?

For years after, he compared every man to me. If he didn't measure up, he says, they were "thrown out." For years he did this, until someone loved him through it - and they were together for 4.5 years. Now, however, the man has trust issues and their relationship has ended. But that's what it took.

WHAT?!?

I admit to him that when I found out he lived in Louisville, less than a 2 hour drive away, after my divorce ... that I actually paid for a people search to find him and I had several numbers to call him. I never called though because I was afraid he'd reject me and I couldn't do that again. I actually tried to get my cousin to make the calls, but she wouldn't recognize his voice. I admit this all knowing full well that he's going to think I'm a stalker. but I'm putting it all out on the table. "I did the same thing," he says to me.

WHAT?!?

Yes, folks - he paid the same fee, found a list of people in this city with my name and got through 3 calls before thinking it was stupid.

Now we live 700 miles apart, someone loved him through it and he's in a new relationship, and I'm not sure how I feel about all of this.

What should I feel right now, knowing he said that he really wished I had made calls when I got those Louisville numbers? Obviously, I'm not trying to start some shit here - so don't tell me to move to NY and beat the fuck out his current boyfriend ... I just need to know HOW to feel.

Flattered that he did love me after all? Grateful that he admitted it to me? I just feel WEIRD and I don't know what to do with it. HELP!

Why Black Men Don't Jog

2009-06-16T16:09:00.003-04:00

Getting Serious

2009-06-14T15:31:00.002-04:00

I've been in a mood, as is wont to happen to me. I kind of feel like my stars or planets aren't aligning and I've just been in a funk. I reached that point where I just wanted to say "Fuck You" to everybody and hole up in my house for an indefinite amount of time. I even wanted JACK to fuck off, but some of you piped in and saved him from certain death.

Over the past week, I had part II of III done of my floors. As of this writing, the great room, the foyer, the hallway, guest bath and my son's room all have laminate flooring. The old, nasty, "been-through-two-kids" carpeting is gone and the air really does feel cleaner. AHHHH.

Also got my new sofas in. If the carpeting was in bas shape, the sofas were in worse shape. But I didn't exactly get rid of the old sofas because they're worn but comfortable as hell and my roommate wants the sofa in her room.

Since I moved out of my apartment in Chicago to stay in Indianapolis for the summer, I've got tons of shit everywhere already, and now have two sets of furniture in the living room and so much laundry to do that a small child could easilt get lost in that pile of dirty clothes.

I made a ham today, green beans and deviled eggs too. So, the kitchen was a mess. And as usual my funk returned, this time aggravated by the mess that is my hosue right now. I'm just stressed right now because I can't get good sleep in a ransacked house. And that's what it looks like - a ransacked house ... like burgluars tore through it and got pissed that they couldn't find anything of value and deliberately tore shit up that wasn't even bothering them.

Like that.

So - if you don't hear from me for a minute ... it's because I need to spend every waking moment making sure this place gets cleaned up, one room at a time, one dryer load at a time ... one day at a time

SWEET JESUS!

She Right. I wasn't ready.

2009-06-13T23:54:00.000-04:00