JGC II?

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 ...

Taking Advantage

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)

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?

Children ...

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:

1. 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.
2. The baby likely needs to go too.
3. Two words: birth control
4. Three words, in case number 3 doesn't work: Morning After Pill.
5. 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.
6. If you choose to have a kid - you no longer matter.
   
7. If you still want to matter - see number 2
8. 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.
9. 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.

Funeral Hell

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

Ethnic Cleansing

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.

Santa's a Bitch

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.

Tapa Ceilo Con La Mano

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)

1. 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.
2. 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
3. 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."

This ain't your song

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

That Bitch got a problem - THIS Bitch gonna fix it

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.

Tipping the scales

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?

On some grown shit

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.

Sucking it out of me

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.

BET Music Awards

F

A

I


L

Michael Jackson

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?

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)

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.

I love this guy

The Gay Patch

I was talking to my boss, as I'm wont to do whenever we're in the same room. And a conversation ensued about Pirates. He was talking about some show he saw that explained why Pirates wore eye patches. It was one those conversations you pretend to find interesting because it's your boss - you know, the ones where you're mentally making the grocery list but also nodding agreeably and smiling as if you were intrigued.

Only, I stopped making the grocery list and I actually found myself genuinely interested in what he had to say. Now, you must know that my boss is an engineer, of the typical grade. His ilk tends to overthink things and finds humor in things the average person just doesn't get. Now, I have an engineering degree, and I can follow him just fine, but the degree does not an engineer make - trust me. I am NOT of that ilk, and my creating and maintaining JACK should be proof enough for you.

I've known him for more than 8 years and have worked for him for a good chunk of that time. He's ever so slightly socially awkward, but thank God I went to engineering school and spent all those years pulling my hair out trying to communicate with my classmates because it helped me deal with this man. He's really a good person and is unmatched by anyone in the industry - he really knows his shit. Technically, that is. He really couldn't manage his way out of an opened-top cardboard box - but he knows his engineering stuff better than anyone I know.

And I'm not kidding about the management dig. We were having a conversation about the week's work and I mentioned that things would be slowed a bit since my counterpart, also his direct report, was on vacation. He said that he didn't know she was on vacation until that morning.

wait - isn't this the dude who approved her vacation time? Why yes - yes it is.

In a former life, when I was working for him at our previous employer, we had a rotten, snotty bitch for an admin. And she totally made best pals with his wife, and he totally didn't stop it. And then she started getting mouthy at work and acting like she owned the place and he was afraid to discipline her because that was his wife's friend. So, usually - this admin and I ended up having words ... and even then, he's do nothing.

Oh, and did I mention that he he marked me down on my last performance appraisal because I couldn't get my counterpart here to change her behavior? You know, the one who reports to HIM. And even after I told him that she and I have the same title and she just won't pay me mind when I make suggestions - he still marked me down. Whatever - I've learned to let him win the little battles. It made him feel good.

At any rate, so when he starts explaining that he did some research into it to verify what he learned about Pirates, I knew right then and there that I didn't have to google it to verify it myself. If this man said it's true - it simply is. Trust me - he's an engineer and when he says he researched it, it means he's spent counteless hours on it and REALLY knows it's true.

So, why do Pirates wear patches over their eyes? It's so they can see better.

Yes, I know it sounds stupid - like, why the hell would you cover your ears in order to HEAR better - but shut up and follow me here ...

Pirates needed to be resilient and have spot-on reaction time. And I'm not talking about these Somali pirates that chase down ocean liners in rowboats (I seriously have NO idea how the captains of these gi-nourmous ships can't fend off those fuckin canoes the somalis pass off as pirate ships) I'm talking about the "ARRRGGGHHHH," "YO HO HO!" pirates of old who shot cannons and sported hooks for fingers. Them. THEY needed reaction time like no other. So they wore a patch.

Out on the ocean in the middle of day - it's pretty bright. So they would wear a patch so that if they had to go down under the deck, they could close the unpatched eye, lift up their patch and be able to see in the dark without having to wait for their pupils to dialate. Likewise, when they came back up onto the deck they would flip the patch back over the eye and not have to wait to adjust to the sunlight.

I had NO fucking idea. And I thought it very interesting.

And then I considered the various sides of me - in particular the fact that I don't necessarily wear my sexuality on my sleeve in professional environments. I mean, if I'm in a club, I'll WHINE with the best of them ok - but at work? Yuuuuhhhhh, but NO.

This shit is hard to do wearing a shirt, tie and slacks:



And I think I handle it pretty well. And I really wish my gay bruthas would all do the same. Just because you a bottom doesn't mean you have to remove the steel from your wrists permanently and wear daisy dukes to go out and wash your car in the driveway. I think there needs to be some kind of decorum in there somewhere ... honey, you go on and shake your ass any- and everywhere over there on Halstead, but for the love of God, when you're off to your day job, THIS IS NOT NECESSARY:



Some semblance of this would really be nice. I spent some time on their Web site and I would like to quote them in relation to this post because I'm


"not saying masculine guys are better – but we are different. Our point is that there’s more than one way to be gay. Which ought to be a given in a community that talks about diversity as much as ours does. It’s a sad fact that some gay people buy into – even cling to – the very stereotypes they often complain about. We think it’s important to question both the way gay culture relies on stereotypes to define itself, and the paradoxes that can result. Having a sense of humor about it helps, too. Learning to criticize our own culture, listening to other points of view, and providing more (not fewer) choices, are the hallmarks of a mature community."

So there - now you know why I'm funny. And hopefully you understand the title of this post and where I went with this. And if not ... bitch, BOOM!


*walks away*

My Perfect Mate

You: light skinned or darker, 5'9" or taller, HPTW or within range, 7" or longer (but, Dear God, not MUCH), Associates or better, 24 or older, 40 or younger, swagger or some semblance thereof.

You've got a pair of Tims and at least one suit jacket; Neither collects dust, and you can tie a tie. (Any knot will do)



Orange is orange, no matter the shade, and you never EVER call it tangerine ... or pumpkin.




You can dance - but you don't always throw down some cardboard everytime you hear 'your' song.



You can have mannerisms at times, viturally undetectable, but your purse NEVER falls out no matter how much you run your mouth.



SOME people know; not that it's any of their business, but they're your support system. You might wear a scarf if it's cold, but you don't own a boa. The only feathers you own are in that old triple fat goose no one knows why you still own. But you own it - fuck em. It fits.




You talk a good game, but you listen intently too. You can have a drink, or two or eight - but never need to crawl home or be dragged around by your arms. You speak your mind, but think before you do so ... and never use 'I'm just being honest' as an excuse to be rude and inappropriate. (Unless it's warranted - but then you don't need an excuse). You know that 'conversate' isn't a word and that 'literally' means, uh ... LITERALLY. (Seriously, your head was not 'literally' spinning around ... I don't care how crazy that mfer was driving you).




You know there's a God and give him his props ... but don't let church or denominational doctrine affect your direct link to Him.



You own a belt. You use said belt. Around your waist.



If I measure your waist ... your pants are somewhat close to that size. I'm the only one who sees your underwear - but you don't expect me to always have to be the one to wash them. I mean, I *will* ... but you manage to master the coalescence of detergent, water and washing machine.



(If you already didn't know what it meant, you're looking up the word "coalescence")

You're handy around the house and if the gutters are full of crud you don't scream like a bitch when we reach into them to clean 'em. And ... I cannot stress this enough ... You have your friends, and I have mine. You like my company but don't need to be 3 and a half inches from my face all day. Because, baby ... I'm a need some space too. Thanks.