Blessed with Friends

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

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

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

Interesting Things

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

Deep Fried Awesome

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)

Jaded's Duffel Bag

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.

A week in the life ...

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.

That's it - I've HAD it!

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.

Fried Catfish

Three things have made me reconsider my decision to quit this fucking blog.

1) JADED referred to JACK in her post today. And I kinda wondered how the hell she was going to refer to me if I killed off JACK. And I'm too big a part of her life to just be ousted. So I can't oust me, can I?

2) A recent blog follower explained that his bouts with accepting his sexuality are prevalent right now - he's a young man and in that confused/how will society accept me/does god really want this, etc. phase of a young gay man's life and he said that he appreciates my blog and I wonder if there are other people out there who actually appreciate my blog ...

3) I had further dealings with this mother fucker and I'm sitting here stewing about my own stupidity. And really, why miss an opportunity to showcase my own stupidity.

The short version: we made plans to hook up tonight and he's communicated erratically with me all day. At 9:30 pm he tells me that his momma is hangin gout at his place and that she's just about to leave. Then *dead air*

Seriously - no WONDER it's going on 2 months since I've gotten laid. And even THEN it was some nigga I had to tap out - I didn't even bother to make sure he finished; he so wasn't worth the energy to just lay there.

I aim low - I've got a propensity to reach way down into the bottom of society's barrel - I manage to select fuckers who swim down near the bottom of the sea ... there're plenty of fish in the sea, yes - but it appears I'm attracted to catfish.

And dirty rice.

(Damn, I so want me some [andouille] sausage right now)

Moody by design

I felt it creeping up on me all week. I wasn't sleeping well, have been traveling a lot (Four days in Nashville, Five days in Austin, One night in Detroit for being stranded there, 3 hours in Houston on account on a long ass layover, six days in Indianapolis and 8 days in Chicago) and I know my body ... and my moods. I mean, you know this about me, right? I'm kind of moody? I know, you ain't shocked. Shut up.

And then there's that JADED whose cycle is a vortex that pulls me around in mind numbing circles periodically ... so, i can always tell when that bitch is in a funk because you know what? I'm in a funk too!

She had the nerve to tell me one day that I'm on HER cycle cuz she's the man in this bitch.

Bitch.

I love the shit out her.

But anyway, I knew I was feeling out of whack and that I was going to be moody. The whole "thing" last night was lackluster and I'm not one to sit and wonder if things will get better. I'm moody and I don't give a shit right now. This morning he asked me if I was coming over tonight ...

Nigga, HELL NO. I hardly got any sleep. His bed is archaic and it's one of the most hugest turn offs for me. I remember this one nigga I met up with one day ... his bed was fucking HEAVEN. I wasn't really all that into him (I know, and yet I was in his bed - don't push it, I'm moody) but I kept asking him for his bed. In fact, I remember telling Jaded that I didn't want him - just his bed.

And like I really meant it.



But, oh. my. god. If you sleep on a bed that fucking creeks when you move - it's a mattress you ain't had NO BUSINESS spending money on. And I'm not playing. The whole bed thing became an issue when I was seeing this guy who invited me over to his house ... the one he was moving OUT from.

Since he was moving out, the place was in shambles - and that made sense. He had stacked all his shit on his bed to sort through it ... and I mean ALL his shit. His closet was empty but his bed was stacked with shit to the rafters. He was sleeping on an air mattress downstairs while he got it together.

And do you know that this nigga tried to dress the damn air mattress? Oh, honey, no. "We ain't laying on THAT, are we?"

He froze there on all fours while making the air mattress and turned his head to look at me. His face was blank. "I guess not."

"Um, I'm totally mattress worthy," I said to him.

"You gon make me move all that shit, aren't you ..."

I said not a fucking word and just stared at him, smiled and took a drag of my cigarette. He spent the next 20 minutes making trips upstairs and taking the stack off his bed and setting his stuff all over the living room ... while I smoked.

Don't come at me with some stupidness. And invest in a comfortable mother fucking mattress. Skip the $300 ipod or that "gotta have it" cell phone and add it to the $300 you have for a mattress and buy something in the $600 + range.

Seriously, I slept like SHIT last night and it's totally ruining this shit for me. Lack of sleep makes me irritable and sleeping on those $299 mattresses hurts my back. And for the love of God - don't buy a full size, carajo! Queen or bigger. Y YA!

And don't mother fucking lie about shit you KNOW i'm gonna find out. Like that one dude who said he was 35 ... except after we met he tells me he's 42. I actually don't give a fuck how hold you are (as long as you're over 27), but the fact that you lied about it ... well, that now makes it an issue.

But about your endowment?!? Much like I don't care how old you are, the size of your dick isn't an issue. As a matter of fact, there *IS* such a thing as too big. I'm *NOT* a size queen .. I prefer everything to fit.

But why, why WHY lie? KNOWING I'm gonna find out. And I can TOTALLY tell the difference between 8 inches and 6. Seriously, I know the difference.

TRUST ME. I know the difference. *wink*

The fact that you lied about it? Annoying as hell. And maybe I could chalk it all up to your being self-conscious about it, fine ... But your mattress sucks! Ay no, I can't. I spent $600 on mine ... and I have a platform bed without a box spring. I don't do $399 sets. Sorry.

I get TOTALLY petty when I'm moody - I accept it. Suffice it to say I turned down the offer to go back there again tonight. For WHAT!? For his mattress to blow my back out?




And don't buy THIS shit either!

Bandwagon ...

"LA MEGAGAY"

Figure 1: Closeted homosexual comedian - who isn't funny OR good in bed.

... because I CANT swallow, that's why!

I walked around Sunday feeling a bit under the weather and as the day progressed I felt worse. Driving back to Chicago that night was awful. My entire body was achy and I longed for a massage. On Monday morning, I woke up feeling like I'd rather be forced to watch The View than swallow. And I knew I needed to see the doctor ... post haste!

So, I find an immediate care facility near my job and take the train in. If it's a viral infection, I'm just going into work, I figured. So, the nurse gets this q-tip the size of a Louisville Slugger and gags the fuck out of me.

WOMAN! How the fuck long you gotta be back there!

And with tears rolling down my face, I pull away. And do you know what this cunt says to me? Do you KNOW?

"I need to get the other side"

The OTHER side? Dear LAWD, the other side of what? My NECK!?

So, I let her go back there again and we repeat the whole process. I *promise* you the sadistic sonofabitch was doing it just for kicks.

And sure enough - it's STREP. The dreaded strep throat.

The doctor tells me that that's likely where my loss of appetite was coming from.

JACK THINKING: "what loss of appetite? who told this crackhead I lost my appetite. All i do is eat! I've got the spare tire to prove it

JACK IN REAL LIFE: "OOOHHHH"

*shrug* whatever, doc. You're akin to Jesus - blahblahblah - you saved my life - wahwahwahwahwahwah - what would I do without you - yuhyuhyuh

JUST GIVE ME THE FUCKING SCRIPT.

So, although I'm feeling much better, it still feels funny when I swallow. Apparently, I'm no longer contagious, but there's still DEAD shit clinging to my tonsils with tentacles like octopuses or something.

It's quite the visual - I wish Jaded were here to draw a picture for me. She's a much better artist that she is a singer. Just ask N.

The New York METS Mets mets ...

Have you read Jaded's blog? It's about the debacle of a patch the NYM are putting on their uniform. There's a mini-contest to see who can do one better (unofficially) because I said I could ask my daughter to do one better. But I decided that *I* would give it a try. Scroll down for my submission:

Obama, Latinos and My babies

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeeeesss."

She points to herself, "Latino?"

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

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

"Right!"

"It reminds me of cappuccino"

"Why's that baby?"

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

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

"Cuz I'm smart."

"You really are, baby."

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

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

Dear Santa:

Santa,

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

Can you please define "good?"

Sincerely,

JACK Martinez

Overwhelming JACK

Written two weeks ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I don't live in no 100 Acre Wood.

(mmmm .. wood.)

JACK off-kilter

If you know me well, you know that (all things considered) I'm pretty normal. Although as I sit here and type, I'm not so sure that's really saying much. Normal is such an ambiguous term and we all come from one measure of dysfunction or another, right? But, it is an absolute miracle that my upbringing resulted in ANY semblance of normal - I promise you. Statistics say I should be dusty, wearing baggy ass jeans that don't fit my waist, walking with a pronounced strut, scarred by bullets, knifes and random sharp objects, spending all my waking hours in pursuit of the next high and any crime that would send me back to jail where it's nice and cozy, I get three meals a day and don't really have to do much.

But, on the contrary. I'm clean cut (not dusty), wear business casual on the regular (as opposed to baggy jeans), walk upright (without a pronounced strut), have no real scars other than from that surgery on my wrist and have never been cuffed (so sad, but true), let alone carted off to jail. All those things being said - I'm wont to periodically lose my mother FUCKING mind and be pissed off at nothing in particular and not want to see another soul because even the very presence of them would set me off and I would definitely need to find something to fight about.

Like today.

I woke up hella late ... got to work at noon and I'm in the ONLY funk. I have been trying to figure out the trigger. Could it have been that drinking binge last week? I mean, I was one drink away from being the next Captain on the bottle .... each night .... but wouldn't I be feeling like this LAST week, then?

And then it hit me.

me: is this our PMS week? Cuz I'm wanting to fuck someone up for no reason. Check your calendar. I need answers

JADED: right on schedule

me: why! why! WHY AM I CYCLING WITH YOU!

JADED: I'm the dominant bitch in this relationship. LMAO!

me: dominate THIS, pendeja

We've had this conversation before, Jaded and I ... and I've realized that I get into a rhythm rather easily. I get cool with a bitch, and suddenly her moon rises and falls over me too. WTF! I suppose it's the same "thing" within me that has me picking up accents really fast. I mean, if I spent ONE WEEK in the deep south (saaaayyyy, Mississippi!), I'd have a funny ass drawl (like from, saaaaayyyy, Mississippi!).

I'm impressionable, I suppose. So impressionable that I will need an alibi when I beat the living fuck out someone today. I mean, I want to swing boards with rusty nails protruding from the ends ... and I doubt I'd get off on account that JADED is the dominant bitch in our relationship. So, if anyone asks ... I was with you. ALL AFTERNOON.

Got it?

me. there. with you. ALLLLLLLLL afternoon.

Thanks.

*scurries down hall*

Creating JACK

Remember the guy who bought me a ring? Well, what's very interesting about that situation is that I never told him my real last name. I don't remember ever telling him it was Martinez, but that's what he thinks my last name is. In fact, just a few minutes ago, he called me and said, "Hello Mr. Martinez. How are YOU?"

It took me a bit to compose myself so as not to laugh uproariously into the mouthpiece - and no sooner did the call end did I text Jaded to tell her what happened. Her response, in classic JADED-JACK vernacular?

ME MEOOOO!

Right then and there, I realized I had found JACK's last name. It just HAS to be Martinez. It *must* be.

And so it shall be.

-JACK Martinez

Move over Tom Joyner ....

OK, I know I said I wouldn't post (although before my "homework cometh to me" post, I published five more to go live at a later date), but it's 6:30 am and I'm making this a quickie.



Did you listen to the radio show? OMG, did I have a blast. There's tons of good advice given in this segment amidst the hilarity. Don't be shy, click the link and listen in ...

(no, seriously - click the damn link)

I think we did ok - definitely a step up from that FIRST Monday Musings show where they were all serious and shit ... bbbboooorrrrriiiiinnnnggggg.

I jest - Jaded's work is bar none.

*smooches* (as she says)

Moving on

I wrote this not long before JADED became JADED, and you can see why JADED became JADED and not JACK. (Aside from the fact that she already claimed the damn name - bitch.) I wrote this about some dude I met via the internet, whose face I have yet to see. Right - we never met in person, although we still talk even now after three years. In fact, we just had a text fight the other day because he pissed me off. I think he was still searching for an apology from that time TWO YEARS AGO when i asked him if he was HIV positive. It seems he didn't like my response - pssshhhh, I told him I wasn't apologizing for something I didn't feel sorry about and that my goddam right to ask. We didn't talk, errrr, text for like a week.

And it seems appropo right now since I got a call from him this morning finally owning up the the fact that he's not ready.

Your indecision

My mind absorbs the reality that
my heart has yet to accept
And here I go
yet again
experiencing the intangible
Feeling let down
And as I seek to splice
the disconnect within me
I accept
that it is me
who let me down
for believing it was you
who could answer my call

But I refuse to be jaded

I refuse to be jaded

I simply refuse
to give you the power
to determine my fate
to even have a say
in my destiny

I’ll rise again
Soon
Very soon
Sooner than ever before

And for the record, dear readers, I rose when I wrote this and I'll rise again.

And, as a side note, I'm watching you too, Mr. You Know Who You Are, still acting like you too good to comment on my blog. I'm not afraid to withdraw my endorsement. Just cuz I co-signed to this point don't mean I can't withdraw that signature.

*puts on shades and engages the side eye*