wisdom. testosterone. and a little bit of bs

life in review

The Pessimist, the Cynic, and the Ne’er Do Well


Please….shut up already, you leech, you vampire, you succubus. I can feel you draining all of my optimistic soul with your chronic complaining and pessimism. Yes life is a struggle, I get it. Just stop talking about how miserable your life is and DO something about it.

I have my own issues to contend with. I’m making positive strides forward, then you come along with your black cloud of mope and despair overcasting my day. Fortunately, I have one of those pro golf sized “mental umbrellas” to keep me dry from your gale force tirades of drama. Spare me your relationship episodes, you’re not David Duchovny on Californication. I could care less about how your wife emasculates you….wait, what did you call it, “she’s assertive and likes wearing the pants” so instead of watching the playoffs Sunday afternoon, you’re down at the flea market shopping for discounted trinkets and bootleg romantic comedy dvd’s.

The next person to attempt to trample one of my good spirited days with their “cup is almost empty” demeanor, deserves a Rick James to Charlie Murphy open handed slap. Seriously. I’m on a mission. Because your train derailed, you want to plant bombs on my tracks? If life is sooooo bad, give up. Stop trying. Kill yourself. More food for us. Still here? Pussy…or is it that your life isn’t that bad afterall huh?

The next step isn’t so easy. Depressing people travel in packs, infecting others like a virus adding to the collective. You have got to break away from the other crabs if you want to change your mindset. And don’t think they won’t notice. “why’d you stop calling? oh, you too good to hang with us now? Hey I just wrecked my car for the 3rd time can I get a ride? Hey girl, so and so was talking about you. I just wanted to let you know. What’s up man, I just quit my bullshit job. Naw, I ain’t got nothing lined up just yet tho…mind if I hang out for a few days?”

Good luck escaping. If you did manage to escape, your circle is extremely smaller now isn’t it? Google+ won’t be happy (lol if you don’t get that it’s ok, the joke wasn’t for you).

I had an intellectual discussion with a good friend of mine last night until 3am. It’s amazing what conversations stem from Grand Marnier and blue mist hookahs….I digress, where was I? One topic involved goals, aspirations, and the means to reach them. Have you met yours? what prevented you? what’s stopping you now? At what point do you concede? the conclusion obviously, is that the infrastructure of any goal you set forth is planning. Then it hit me like a ton a bricks. 35-40% of the people I knew, didn’t plan for shit. Most of them are already out of my life, the few remaining handful will probably become case studies for this blog in the near future.

It’s 2012 people. time to become extremely independent and get off the teat. Bad things will happen soon. PLAN AHEAD.(damn have I been infected by the cynics?) Time to develop some survivalist skills just in case of some post apocalyptic scenario. I recommend the three H’s. Hunting, Horticulture and Whoring…yes yes I know, I know. It was just fun to say.

Through playing with y’all.


Ain’t Life A Niche…


Overzealous, overconfident, overactive, and today…..over reaching. I’m the biggest advocate of stepping out of the box, breaking away from the norm and doing or being different. That said, we each have our own roles to play in life. Our own talents, our own gifts. Our very own little niche.

I know, (as much as I loathe to admit it) I cannot be everything to everyone. The sky IS the limit, but the ugly truth is that the ceiling varies for different people. My gifts, my creativity, my talents will only get me so far. Your talents may or may not get you farther or faster. Everyone has a cap. I will never work for NASA, be a chemical engineer, or a college math professor. Why? Because I absolutely detest math and anything of its ilk. Besides…it’s a right brain function, and we all know artists (the left brain users of the world) can’t stand prolonged use of the right side. It just isn’t natural to us.

So I’m just gonna do me. All the things that I’m good at, my special niche in life: writing, fitness, counseling, electronics, computers, photography, fighting, loving, drinking and hell raising. and not necessarily in that order.

(did me taking an exam really just snap me outta my writer’s block?) Hallelujah, I’m back!


Anatomy 101


Da Vinci art

I had a bit of an epiphany in the gym this morning. It dawned on me that most people go their entire lives without realizing what their very own bodies are physically capable of. It’s funny to me. Mainly because in my youth, I was literally thin as a walking stick. Had it not been for that fateful day in Chicago at the Naval base, where I (a basketball fanatic) was dunked on by a semi pro player.

That pivotal moment changed me. Angered and blinded by the fact that someone broke through my defense, I subbed out and left the court…right into the weight room. while the 1st two years were a clueless waste of time, the next 13 years became a campaign to become bigger and stronger. Years of muscle sprains, tendinitis, deep tissue massages, and gallons of protein later, here I am remaining steadfast on my personal crusade to be the fittest I can be.

But not most people….the average person doesn’t think about it until a really fit person walks up next to them and then they realize “oh shit, that person is my age”. Then there’s the moment of self-pity. The envy lasts a bit longer but that too is quickly forgotten as soon as the “hot and fresh doughnuts” sign lights up at Krispy Kreme.

The human body is literally a Transformer. (Hasbro should pay me for plugging them)

It’s astounding the amount of resiliency and strength it has. It can be shaped and molded, made stronger, faster. It can endure miles and miles of running or tons and tons of weight lifting. Each and every person has their very own machine to tweak and customize as they see fit, but 89% of you don’t….okay I made that number up, but so what it’s probably higher. It’s the equivalent of taking a Ferrari and letting it sit for years exposed to the elements.

I’m curious.

What’s it like?

Trying this diet plan and that diet pill….starving yourself to squeeze into a dress you know damn well you shouldn’t have purchased. Doing push ups before you head out to the beach to give the illusion that you work out on a regular basis. I’ll bet you 20 bucks you’ve got a guy at work that arches his back when he walks as if to imply his chest is huge.

Delusions of fitness never gets old. Promising yourself to exercise but that day never comes, or wearing sleeves so tight your hands turn blue. So what does it take to get motivated and embrace a fit healthy lifestyle?

1. you must WANT it. badly…a 6 month diet plan is going to crash like Denzel Washington in “Flight”.

2. Self Evaluate. look at yourself realistically, and honestly. Then set a goal. and just like building a house you’re gonna need blueprints to make that goal happen. You will need a professional at this point. Find a certified licensed trainer. You will only need him/her for about 4-6 months tops. listen and do everything they tell you, then rinse and repeat on your own.

3. Educate yourself in health and exercise. I’m mean really learn. Chances are your doctor doesn’t know a damn thing about fitness. Remember he’s getting paid to sell you his skill set and medicine.

4. Take a nutrition class. Trust me, when you learn that you truly are what you eat, you’ll stop huffing down pancakes, doughnuts and cookies.

5. Kinesiology, the study of human movement. When you know how your body works once and for all, you will laugh at those infomercials trying to sell you a “gutbuster 3000″ and the people that buy them.

Extend your life/livelihood. Take care of your body as you would your car, house, your lawn….or whatever you deem of value and importance to you. God willing, working out and pushing my body to it’s limits will continue be a staple in my life, as much as breakfast and sex. And I’m certainly not trying to give up either of the two anytime soon.

Train hard. Indulge later.


Resolute Ideas


2010 is over. Thank God. It’s been a rollercoaster ride from hell, from natural disasters to the ongoing ever present recession, things have not been nice (putting it mildly). Nevertheless tonight, err….tomorrow begins a new year, new beginnings, new chances, new opportunities and for a lot a people, new resolutions.

I can tell my age is catching up to me. Because this year, my resolution is so far removed from the norm, it signifies the next step in my learning process. my own personal maturation in life. Or to repeat what my wife says “my Buddhist Monk” like ways.

As much as our President has touted change, I fear there will be none. At least not in our lifetime or not in the manner in which we expect. And that got me to thinking….why? Really, why can’t we change? As a whole, once we reach adulthood most people are set in their ways like super glued concrete shoes, only changing when traumatic events unfold.

Our only chance is our children.

Children are full of creativity and ideas that are unrestricted by boundaries and prejudices. Children can provide the change we need to TRULY make this world a better place. It starts at home, in your neighborhoods, in your cities. Stop dashing your child’s dreams. Give them positive reinforcement all of the time. Support their goals. Teach them. They are apt to learn life quicker from you than from a stranger in the form of public schooling.

My New Year’s resolution?  To inspire all youth. Whenever and wherever I can.

Think for a second if we all did that, what would begin to transpire. So instead of trying to lose 10lbs off your fat ass in a gym program that you won’t stick with, why not volunteer at a local Boy’s and Girl’s club? Or start a tutoring program? There’s also Big Brothers/Sisters programs.

I can’t be the only person who can see that as a whole, adults have failed miserably. It’s time to hit the reset button and give our children a chance to right our wrongs.

What’s YOUR New Year’s Resolution?


Bittersweet November


Well now….I think I’m most certainly convinced without a shadow of doubt that our country is nowhere near being out of the “recession” and things are steadily declining.

Why? Because two weeks ago I lost my job due to downsizing. I was numb at first. Kind of in a haze for a week or two. Then oddly enough, I started feeling better.  As if a weight was lifted? I don’t know, I can’t explain it. I am still sorting through it, but outside of the financial hit, I feel great.

I think I must be imagining things, because this morning when I looked in the mirror some gray hairs had receded and that monkey on my back, crashing those tambourines in my ear wasn’t there.

I now enjoy my pumpkin spiced coffee on the porch without gulping it down, while watching my rottie do his business near (in) my neighbor’s yard (what? her cats shouldn’t be on my Z ,but it happens). I think it’s safe to say, I will end out this year ABSOLUTELY stress free.

2011 will be another thing altogether….My resumé is shining, but I don’t even know if I want to remain in the same field. Hell, I don’t know if I want to remain in the same country while this mess is going on. However, as always I’ll persevere and look good while doing it.

If I was of the superstitious lot, I’d say November is a bad month for me considering what happened last November, but I’m not. This is most definitely a blessing in disguise. My path has been lain out in front of me. I just need to uncover it.

Now where’s that damn leaf blower?


Got Snacks?


Here we go. “Murica’s” new drug of choice…..food. The percentage of overweight/obese Americans is staggering. A nation of people hooked on food, like heroin junkies.

Does anyone eat for sustenance anymore? I mean c’mon, isn’t food meant to be eaten to survive? I guess if it ain’t smothered, covered, chopped, scattered, topped and peppered it ain’t right. Ever see a toddler refuse oatmeal because there isn’t enough sugar and butter in it? We are setting our children up for failure. Would you stick a crack pipe in a baby’s mouth? Meth addict, sugar addict….both make your teeth fall out. I’m just saying.

And before you go “no Dennis it’s not the same”, STFU and listen…stop setting your kids up for diabetes and other food borne ailments. Think about this: Some of you might be lactose intolerant. That means that your ADULT body has decided its had enough of a substance meant to nourish babies. Do you think there are any lactose intolerant people in Somalia or any Russians with peanut allergens?

Can someone explain to me why the Food and Drug Administration hasn’t stepped in to curb this food nonsense. Oh that’s right…money. Money and Monsanto. Google GMO foods and Monsanto. (just click the link)  That guy is Satan hellbent on killing you and your kids and “UOENO” that it’s happening right under your nose.

Marketing and media food gurus entice you with their captivating commercials, playing on your greediness and need for all things bigger. “yeah that burger I made you last time, it’s nothing… nothing…nothing…..compared to this burger. This burger right here, we call it “the whole cow”. You won’t have to eat for weeks.

Bigger, richer, fluffier, greasier, more decadent, more seasoned….mmmm taste all this flavor. And you have the nerve to wonder why you need liposuction. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be a glut AND be physically fit.

Yet I’m the freak because in my late 40′s, I workout like it’s my religion and eat healthy. And then there’s always the plethora of questions: How do you workout? What do you eat? What supplements do you take? Are you on steroids? Most people regard my answers as if I suggested they cut off a big toe. The fact is, every single day I wake up, I think to myself I can do better. I must do better. I will do better. I’m sorry that I have the willpower to avoid Dairy Queen’s XXL Blizzard shakes and those insidious Krispy Kreme doughnuts.

My competitive streak fuels me when my energy runs low and my alpha mindset kicks in. Shout out to Police Lieutenant Larry Kitchens, who try as he might, simply cannot keep up. Larry, if you’re reading this then you know I WON.  Admit defeat gracefully, and I promise to catch you up to speed. Or accept my official challenge: downstairs. police gym. date and time of your choosing. and we’ll invite the entire building.

Sorry, I’ve gotten off track.

I think I may have a solution. Put an end to serviced foods and grocery stores and bring back butchers and farmers markets. convenience kills. Show of hands, who grew up hunting and fishing? Did you teach your kids? Even I am remiss in that one. It’s time to get back to the basics in life.

Simplify your nutrition. Man….venison steaks sound good right about now.


Garlic crabs in a barrel


crabs in a barrelAfter a brief discussion about racial stereotypes with an old friend of mine, I think I’m more irritated than usual today.

It’s hard enough to deal with hidden agendas and the proverbial knife in the back, but when you’re forced to endure the “crabs in the barrel” attitude from your own people, it really stops you in your tracks and makes you take a hard look at society, culture and regional environments.

The Mason-Dixon line isn’t the only line drawn that some southerners secretly take pride in. Economic status, has always been a line that separates us, not only from a financial standpoint but a social one as well. When you successfully make that jump into the next tax bracket, you leave behind a few scratching heads wondering “how’d he do that?” That wonderment (also known as ignorance) turns to resentment. The end result? You now have a hater on your hands.

*Hater ~ from the urban dictionary perspective: a person who cannot abide another person’s success. Instead of being congratulatory, they make it point of exposing the person’s flaws. The thought process isn’t outright hate, it’s the desire to take that person down a peg or two in the eyes of mutual peers. Mostly to distract those peers from the hater’s own inabilities, flaws and other idiosyncrasies.

Now, let’s add some water to that grease fire shall we?  Break a few racial stereotypes, think outside of the box, or just blaze your own trail in way NOT typically known to be done by your ethnicity group and watch what happens.

As a black person, go rock climbing, or as a white person, become a rapper. White muslim? Jewish AND indigent? Depending on where you are regionally, you’ll be known as “selling out”, or acting something that you’re not. People are creatures of habit like that. Sad, but undeniably true.

Change upsets conformity.

When they see “different” then something must be wrong. Are we really hard wired like that?

My friend Anthony is a cyclist. He’s pretty good. But because cycling isn’t seen as a “black” sport, he’s operating outside of the known stereotype, and now he’s taking heat from his peers, accusing him of being something he’s not. really? Small minded people should just quit breeding. Ignorance begets ignorance.

While visiting family back home, I ran into a childhood friend. After reminiscing a bit, he pulls me to the side and asks, ” Hey dawg, so how long were you locked up for?’ See… for this jackass, military training and 15 years of bodybuilding equate working out in the penitentiary recreation room.

This is a very large world we live in. Get off your close-minded, prejudiced, one tracked, “I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday”, asses and experience something new. Talk to someone different. Walk another route. Go visit another country. Stop wallowing in your own ignorance and for God’s sake stop educating yourself via reality TV and Fox News (can people really not see their agenda?!)

FYI, we have some of the dumbest kids on the planets. Thanks failed parents! Let’s have more Honey Boo Boo’s and Plaxico Buress’s in the world. Yeah, I went there and no that ISN’T stereotyping. that’s a fact. Shanghai, Singapore and Hong Kong are making our kids look stupid. Literally.  Google it.  Nevermind. Here I’ll do it for you: http://www.cnbc.com/id/101240945

through playing with y’all…..damn.


10 things your mother forgot to tell you


Mothers often pass down unwritten rules to their daughters to prep them for the real world. To you ladies that missed out and/or didn’t listen, this is for you. And suffice to say, it is FAR from complete. It’s just a few tidbits of what I’ve garnered in my 40+ years of existence. Some of you will gripe. I don’t care……you’re mad because I’m right.

10. Cook all you want…but a man prefers sex over biscuits any day of the week. The key to a man’s heart is comprised of many different things. cooking for him is at the bottom of that totem pole.

9. the tomboy/girl next door thing is cute, but your man still wants a lady. Keep rocking ballcaps and tennis shoes if you want. You’ll find yourself in the dugout being replaced by a new relief pitcher at the bat. (no pun intended).

8. His friends aren’t really “your” friends. He doesn’t trust them and neither should you. Especially his drinking buddies. Use common sense, before you find yourself in an awkward situation.

7. It really is all about the “Presentation”. the hippie movement isn’t making a comeback and you’re not from some obscure European country. groom yourself….muttonchops on the inner thigh is nasty.

6. Your BFF of many years will sleep with your man and go shopping with you the very next day. Yep, there are women like this, and the funny part is that they aren’t skanky or slutty. They want to test drive what you have. plain and simple. sad, but true.

5. If you don’t want to raise a dysfunctional son:

a. don’t separate him from his father (a good father) even in a divorce.

b. don’t bad mouth the father(at least within earshot of your child).

Why? because once you crush a boy’s hero…once you remove his mentor, his blueprint to life, who is he going to learn from? you? no offense single moms, you don’t have the kahunas to turn a boy into a real man…there must be a male role model in his life.

4. Do not bring your dates around your children too soon. that’s such a great example of relationship building…..not. your daughter will mimic you, and your son will assume you’re easy. (and that’s putting it nicely). Oh, and the kids will tell their father, who will roll up on your new boy toy and threaten him, effectively scaring him away.

3. Number four leads into three…Just like sons need fathers, daughters need their mothers. you are her blueprint to womanhood. She’s watching you and mimicking all of your actions….ALL OF THEM. the phrase, “do as I say, not as I do” is null and void. so it goes without saying, if you’re on the pole….

2. Feminism…for the most part, is cool if you’re a lesbian or a bitch. (I can hear emails flooding my inbox now).

1. Feminism and independence go hand in hand. and too much of that said independence will usurp your man’s headship. Doing this WILL cause him to resent you. He’s going to feel castrated. Yeah, I grew up old school, but far from chauvinistic as you probably have formed that opinion of me already (which I’M NOT). Look, if you’re really feeling incensed over what I’ve written, let me soothe your ruffled feather a bit. Even though I grew up in the bible belt, I’ve never been given to quoting biblical references. Generally, I let my actions speak for me, but… 1 Corinthians 11:3 ” Now I want you to realize that the head of every man is Christ, and the head of every woman is man, and the head of Christ is God.

As I said before, this list is far from complete. But if you only take one thing from this blog, make sure you understand that raising your children APPROPRIATELY comes first. As a man, my goal is to ensure my son is prepared in all aspects of life. To make his journey easier than mine, to tutor him on life’s trek. Ladies…THAT IS THE LEAST YOU CAN DO FOR YOUR DAUGHTERS.


Facebook Episode 1


I have a confession. I stealth on Facebook and hide myself online because my friend’s list is 85% friends and 15% unknown psychotic waiting-to-have-an-episode nutjobs. So…better send me a message, cause I will never “pop” online…ha ha.

I don’t even know where to start with Facebook. Between the virtual farm crack addicts or Facebook admin giving pantie shots of my privacy away. There’s SO much. And it’s daunting for some. Why are you sitting behind your monitor laughing, knowing your best friend’s page is jacked up, or the girl you graduated high school with somehow manages to murder the english language via text as if she were illiterate. but we graduated together….right?

*steps up on soapbox* ATTENTION AVERAGE FACEBOOK USERS! You are not Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, you are not John Fitzgerald Kennedy…stop with the quotes and the “positive” messages. You motivate no one but yourself. Now, if someone messages you and tells you that your message helped them make it through the day, by all means keep it up…but after, oh let’s say 9 or 10 posts of cut and pasted plagiarization and you get zero feedback, you lose 128,125,128,523 points in motivational skills and should move on to recipes for crock pots. *steps down from soapbox*

So Facebook has become the virtual social hub of our existence. Our identity online right? Yet some of you…I ain’t saying names, have been on Facebook for at least a year with no picture (or an up to date one). Who are you hiding from? Or should I say, what are you hiding from us? You in witness protection? Were you horribly disfigured? Do you not own a digital camera? Actually, the last one isn’t an excuse….turn your phone over and push the button on the side.

No pic in a year? Delete your account today.

There is just sooo much wrong with Facebook, yet I faithfully log in to “see” what my family and friends are up to, post pics of weekend activities, and report the weirdos.

My message of the day Facebook users: Moderation is key. Too much of a good thing is bad for you.


More Cushion for the Pushing?


belly fat Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (re-runs obviously) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?

Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.

See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt  no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.

But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer?  To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”

Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.

Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook  tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.

Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.

Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.

Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit”.


Clash of the Titans 3D


I am not a movie critic. Nor do I express the desire to become one in the near future. But when filmmakers of the remake start to pull an R. Kelly on it’s audiences SOMETHING has to be said.

I don’t even know where to start first. Oh, wait…yes I do. WHERE IS THE 3D?!? Did I really just spend extra money on a feature that enticed me in the first place, only to see a handful of scenes ACTUALLY in 3D? At some point in the movie I snatched the stupid glasses off and watched normally. It’s gotta be a new plot to make people sit and look like asses with ineffective horned rimmed glasses on. Some producer is laughing his ass off as everyone becomes honorary members of the Geek Squad.

After realizing I’d been R Kelly’d (if you really have to ask, you should probably go lie down, its past your bedtime), I noticed something else: This movie is the “cliff notes” of the original in 1981. You know how you fast forward x 4 shows on your DVR? That’s precisely how it felt watching this movie.

To the average movie goer, It’s an dumb plot, slightly action packed CGfest. For me I felt duped, let down, my intelligence insulted, in other words, pissed on by the director of this film. I’ll have you know they actually made shit up totally incongruent with mythology.  Any fan or student of Greek mythology will let you know right away that Medusa IS NOT a Titan. She’s of the Gorgon familial. What? I wasn’t a muscle head all my life, I kept my head in books. Greek Mythology was one of them.

One more thing: In the beginning of this movie they narrate to you the relationship between the Titans and the Olympic gods. The Titans are the fathers of Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. They even tell you that Hades created the Kraken in order to defeat the Titans. If someone can point out to me a Titan clashing against anyone in this movie, I’ll pay you cash.

If my memory serves me correctly I can name a few Titans. Kronos, Hyperion, and Rhea. They are a few of the popular ones not in this movie. This movie was essentially about Zeus vs Hades with a frigging lightsaber thrown in for good measure (no I’m not making that last part up).

I wish I had two extra hands so I could give this movie 4 thumbs down.

To Regal Cinemas, YOU FAIL SO HARD ITS INEXPLICABLE!  UPGRADE YOUR STADIUM SEATS AND HIRE PROFESSIONAL CLEANERS!  Movie theaters aren’t supposed to smell like nursing homes. And anyone 6′ft and above has no leg room.

~finis


The Return


He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.

Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).

Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.

Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.

Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?

But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).

I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.

If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.

Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.

So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.

People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.

The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?

Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.


New Year’s Resolution? Who me?


Happy New year!  It’s that time isn’t it?  Time to make that new years resolution.

‘I’m gonna lose weight”

“I’m gonna save money”

and my all time favorite, (one that I can speak on) “I’m gonna work out and get in shape”.

Yay…I for one, welcome January. I’ll get all the cannon fodder I need for my blogs right in the gym.  Here’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask so many people. Why do you need a certain time of the year as an excuse to do something that you’re NOT going to stick with year round only to make the exact same excuse at the same time next year? I stopped making resolutions a loooong time ago. I figured out that obviously, I never wanted to do said resolution in the 1st place or I would have done it a lot sooner.

I get it though..sorta. a new year. a new beginning. a new you. Thing is, this could work with other holidays as well.

Easter… “Resurrect a new you”.

July 4th…”Celebrate independence from the old you”

Christmas.. “the birth of a new you”

New Years is just another holiday excuse. Let me give you a few synonyms for the word excuse according to Brittanica: apology , cleanup, cop-out, cover up, evasion, subterfuge, justification, plea…see where I went with that?

Hey, if you stick with your fitness program…great, awesome. I owe you an heartfelt apology and I’ll offer you my personal help and assistance. But my money’s on the ones who just paid up for a whole year at their local gyms and will be outta there by……mmm, let’s say March. It won’t even be 30 days for some. C’mon, I haven’t spend the last 13 years of my life in a gym and not have noticed.

I see you…on the phones, wearing makeup, scoping out potential mates (ok nothing wrong with that part), socializing like the gym is a club without a liquor license. Refusing a trainer and still working out wrong, holding up the machines that real gym members need. And you wonder how can you work out for so long and not see any results.

I didn’t forget about you weekend warriors (part timers in the gym). you have a little definition, so you swagger around the gym after you bench 225, flexing like you’re in the Arnold Classic, grunting like you’re in a strongman competition, wearing your little brother’s wifebeater so you can appear bigger. Tipping the scales at 220lbs does not put you in the big boy club (unless you’re 5’9). These guys usually quit after they tear a muscle from lifting improperly.

Ladies, ladies, ladies…there are sporting goods stores that sell non-tight fitness gear. So there won’t be any need to tie a shirt around your waist to cover up all that ass you’re trying to hide. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Don’t buy it, and we won’t look. Thus negating the need to cover up what you thought was sexy in the sporting goods dressing room. If men decided to wear loincloths in the pilates class, it would take you outta your game just a little bit wouldn’t it? Mmhmm, thought so. It’s all good til the shoe is on the other foot. Or, to put in more simpler graphic terms…til there’s a large penis in your face and you begin to remember why you’re working out in the first place.

All in all, its going to be fun times these first few months. I have a few goals of my own as well. Only I made them back in October ;)

See ya in the gym!


Mid-Life Madness


I’m bored.

In less than 12 hours I’ll age another year, and yet I am completely unfazed. All the rhetoric surrounding birthdays is designed to do what exactly? The cakes, the parties, the sheer drunkeness (if that’s your kind of thing) is supposed to be a celebration of life? Or…is all the fanfare and festivities just a mere distraction from what you should be doing. Self evaluation. a gut check. I like to think of birthdays as milestone markers where I take out my compass and see what direction in life I’m headed in.

My friends think that I become a somber cynical rattlesnake the days surrounding my birthday. The truth… my eyes are wide open to everything. In my deepest moments of self reflection, I see things from an “outside looking in” standpoint where I become super critical of myself and the world as I see it. All the facades, all the bs we normally take on the chin, all the societal dances that we do, all fade away for me during this time. I gotta tell you, it’s all funny as hell. Straight up comic relief. I can’t help but to laugh at the lengths we go through. Why? to get a job? to get a date? to get the respect you deserve? to be someone else’s idea of a “good” person? Every year, I take a step away from the “norm”. And when I look back, I say to myself, “what the hell was I thinking?!”

Man, why couldn’t I have had this mentality 20 years ago? We all say it, Hindsight is 20/20. I’ve actually come to realize that wouldn’t have been a good move for me. I know now that it was, and still is the journey not the destination, that’s where all the fun stuff happens. The path lesser walked. Google maps ain’t gonna get me there.

This upcoming year I’m going off-road.  See ya in 2010.

PS.  Shout outs to the drunken Christmas carolers of Middleburg, Florida.  FYI, ghetto rednecks, booze and a tortured version of  “Silent Night” is not a good look.  lmfao. WHO FRIGGIN CAROLS THESE DAYS?!? I should add…with sincerity. I still love you guys tho…


What’s that smell?


I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look.  Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.

I can smell it you know. No, not that Dolce & Gabanna you’re wearing or it’s Avon equivalent, the desperation. Seeping outta your pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?

Whenever I’m out socially, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.

However, It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my Fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.

I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…

It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE, I NEED A MAN, I NEED BABIES”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my tungsten carbide diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.

Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.

What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”.  Divine retribution? maybe.


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