Monthly Archives: June 2014

Today’s Word is… EXCEPTION

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One of my biggest turn offs is when a woman is too hard on an ex.  We all love and lose but there’s nothing attractive about a lack of coping skills. Eventually, I’m not going to be the shiny new red ball in her life and if she can’t respect the previous men in her life, I’ll assume she won’t respect me.  I think in essence we are all who we attract and while we all might have a blemish or two on our dating resumes eventually its time to look at the common denominator.  To that same extent, no matter how the relationship ended, you’ll never hear a disparaging word about someone I loved.  I don’t need to my current to even think twice about my ex, let alone hate her.  Yet it seems I’m in the minority in that regard because between R&Buckfoy dominating the airwaves or Captain Save Ems carpe DMing women right after they spent the last hour bad mouthing the last dude, people don’t care about respect for others provided they are respected.  They are content being an exception.

I don’t understand how women can sit and let their man call another woman out her name, or how a man is willing to sleep with a bad mother.  How “I don’t hang with females” girl is okay with how her homies treat their girlfriends or how women turn up to “these heauxs aint loyal”.   This twitter famous dude just leaked some girls nudes, let me send him some.  Perhaps its ego to think that you’re so unlike anyone else they can’t possibly do that to you.  You’re different, you’re special.  Apparently.

I’ve spoken at length here about how at one point I was guilty of acquiring new love in lieu of reflecting on why the last one failed.  I’ve also spoke on myself believe I was the exception.  She cheated with me because I’m irresistible not because she’s just immature and constantly needs attention.  She harassed her ex, there’s no way she’d do that to me if I treat her right.  She dragged his name through the mud but he had it coming, I’m different.  In all 3 scenarios, I wasn’t special, I wasn’t different, I was x in her algebraic equation of fuggery.  Sometimes people are who they are.

I won’t go so far to say people don’t change, but I will say, we give others passes too often because we think it can’t happen to us.  Maybe I’m alone in the idea that treating everyone like shit but me isn’t good enough.  Poor character will always rear its ugly head, a bad temper will eventually go off, and disrespectful people will always disrespect people.  Just say no to assholes, kids.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… TWENTIES

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It was a couple months ago, me and a couple friends go to see Childish Gambino.  Now its a little known fact at the venue that if you eat at the adjoining restaurant, they let you skip the line and enter through the back, which is what we did.  So we eat, drink and be merry and walk right into the show, front row.  This was all well and good except, this was a sold out venue and in the next 15-20 minutes we were going to be trapped by 1000 other people behind us.  Over the course of the show, we found ourselves getting pushed (and groped) by strangers doing it for the vine trying to get closer to the stage.  My date was nearly trampled and may or may not punched a guy…..or two….and shoved another, and spend half the show with some girl brushing her breasts  up against me and copping cheap feels, my date may have threatened to kick her ass….it was a wild night.  Wild, fun, but never a fuggin gain was my decree as we left the venue.  Simple put, I’m too damn old for General Admission. 

Last week I turned 25….I’m in my mid 20s, I got to buy insurance, I go the barber praying my hairline doesn’t start LeBroning, I rather drink wine at a lounge than turn up at the club, I paid off my credit cards, I’m a big kid now.  Now that I’m on the other side of the twenties hill, there’s times where I have an “I feel old” moment and no one lets me live (cuz a better part of my social circle is 30+ these days and even my 30+ readers are rolling their eyes). But tis true, mid twenty somethings can be “old” too, just like when I get information about a show and my first question is “is there a balcony?”

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Other ways I know I’m getting old…

1. I’m overjoyed I don’t have to see high schoolers on my commutes anymore
2. I purchased running shoes and basketball shoes because I feel the aftere ffects of doing either in any ol sneaker
3. I think about the messages in the songs on the radio
4. Running into people from high school and being addressed by first and last name
5. Feeling like crap when I skip meals or eat too much fast food
6. Getting annoyed by remakes of things from my childhood
7. Strongly considering hiring an interior designer
8. Getting hey boo’d by girls I watched grow up
9. Strongly preferring a massage over sex some nights…..okay I’m lying I want both
10. I told a “when I was your age” story the other day
11. Its been a year and I haven’t purchased a PS4 yet
12. I’ll probably purchase a juicer and a Keurig tho

And unlucky #13

No more surprises.

I could get engaged or be expecting a child tomorrow and no one would blink twice, because at 25, this isn’t peculiar.  No more wrap it up warnings from Pops, no more calling girlfriends “wife” (actually I always hated that sh t, I have a friend who is Facebook married to his girl…he’s 29.). I could take a job in California and no one would protest, not that I couldn’t at 18 but you get my point.  When you get into your 20s, you’re not “too young” for anything now, well except death and complaining about being old in the first place.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… ATTRACTED

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So yesterday I was on Twitter, cracking jokes, basking in the vain custom that is hundreds of strangers wishing you a Happy Birthday on the Internet, I ended up coming across Jeremy Meeks; convicted felon turned social media heartthrob.  Anyone who has been on Twitter in the past year knows that this isn’t necessarily new; from @PostBigFines to @PostBadBeards to @PostBadW2s, its standard practice for us to share images of attractive people; its like the adult version of “that’s my car”.  I thought it was assumed that finding a criminal attractive didnt mean you were attracted to criminals but I give the internet too much credit sometimes.  Anyway, it wasn’t long before the Hurt Negreaux brigade stormed the castle and equated women finding Mr Meeks attractive to women once again going for the unsavory bad boy and not their behind. 

Its laughable to think grown men would get jealous of a criminal behind bars on a $900,000 bail, but then again there’s been plenty of times I had some ‘splaining to do because I was too into that Rihanna video, or maybe glanced a second too long at shorty in the sundress.  Once again, the lines between finding attractive and being solely attracted are blurred.  We like to pigeonhole people, especially when it comes to attraction.  As I’ve said on posts regarding dating interracially, its possible to like two completely different things.  Its possible me to love both Jill Scott and Scarlett Johanneson, for a woman to be attracted to that mugshot and still prefer a man with good credit.  Its lazy thinking to assume, oh they only like X type.  Besides even if they did, let that hurt go.

Hating on women with weave wont get your fro tugged at night. Hating on skinny women doesn’t burn calories.  Hating on old blue eyes isn’t making me any more attractive.  All of these make you the opposite, bitter isn’t attractive.  I’m not everyone’s cup of tea (I mean if she wants week old coffee then that’s her business) and I know I never will be (although I think if I were famous I’d be somebody’s crush, I’m cray cray adorbs yo) and jokes aside I’m perfect alright with that.  I’ll stay lowkey with 14 like average Instagram selfies and occasional smiles on the subway. 

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… ME

25. Twenty Five. XXV. Quarter century. It just sounds old, sorry 30+ reader demographic.  But yes, on this day, Juneteenth 2014, I turn 25, and all I want for my birthday is a big booby heaux. I know the lyric, but ass is so overrated, i barely makes my top 5 favorite feature on a woman. Anyway doe, as I take this day pretend to work and check wall posts, texts, and mentions all day as I’m fake special for the next 24 hours,  it’s also a day to reflect on the child I was, the man I am, the person I hope to be, how you turn from a man to a person, who knows it sounds deep I’m letting it ride, it’s my day.  I believe I’ve said this before but too lazy to reread all my posts but I think the critical stages of persons life is 18, 21, 25, 30 and/or when your child is old enough to see if you aint sh t or not whichever comes first. 18 year old me was young and ambitious, but way too arrogant for my own good, by 21 I became more humble and full of potential, 25 is when I stop talking about it and being about it.   

Now am I where I thought i’d be at 25? Not quite.  Am I better than 21, I’d like to think so. Am I on the path to where I’d like to be at 30?….well let’s break it down.

Career- I remember a quote, not who said it and if I ever make it big I’ll probably act like I made it up but “you’ll never make it where you want to go working 8 hrs a day”.  Simple logic.  I thought back to a few weeks back my company’s CEO held a town hall meeting, gave a collective pat on the back for the hundreds of millions the company is making. I mean seriously, rapper can’t outbrag dude he minds well said he has indoor/outdoor pools.  Now I like my job, plenty of room for advancement but is it something I can say I want to do?
My issue has always been focus, pick a hustle and go.  So much I want to do I havent done much. 

Progress- 17%

Love- Probably more than a career I want a family.  Perhaps it’s why I lack focus, I never had a dream job just a dream life.  Love is spontaneous and sporadic, I can meet my future wife in 10 minutes or 10 years.  I will however assess that I’m at least at a point in my life where I know what I want.

Progress- 33%

Social- I would think all I need in this life of sin is me and my girlfriend but no, friends, network, experiences I will admit this is perhaps the aspect of my life that’s dipped since 21.  Single, childless, disposable income, this is the time to live but the one man wolf pack is only cool for so long. I’ve outgrown childhood friends, only keep in touch with a few from college, haven’t met many new ones, well except women, which only counts for so much. 

Progress- 6%

Health- I’m way healthier now than 21. Not just necessarily weight, but I’m stronger, faster, and my face clear.  25 is essentially my physical prime, I gotta enjoy it, it’s all downhill for here

Progress- 63%

Happiness- 18 depressed, 21 stressed, 25 impressed, it’s all good now, I’m out the hood now.  As I said my life is far from perfect but at the end of the day I’m making positive steps that I can’t be too hard on myself.  There’s days I wonder why I don’t take this paycheck and run off to California and try and be a writer, or wonder if I picked the wrong school, wrong major, wrong woman but most days I wake up content.  So as I enter this final 5 years of my 20s and look ahead, I’ll continue growing, continue learning, continue living.  I feel blessed to enter my 25th year in this world and blessed for all the opportunities that await. 
And….Happy Birthday toooooooooo meeeeee

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… SOLO

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Storytime.

So this was a little while ago, back I was on my way to the city to link up with some friends at Day party-like function, I’m like right the hell there…. Plans fall through.  At this point, I’m like fuggit and I’m about to go grab something to eat and play cell phone roulette and see who else is around.  I’m on my way to grab food I see a dude I went to school with, he has two women with him, we chop it up quickly he asks what I’m about to get into….now I should’ve said I’m about to just grab something to eat and head home, what I end up saying is I’m about to get up with some friends at Remy’s

One of the girls says, oh that’s where we was going

The two girls exchange looks, I feel like they are telepathically discussing me:

“he’s kinda cute”
“eh, i guess if that’s what you like” “looks like he can afford a mimosa” “true true”

Other girl says, so we all going to the same place why we standing here.  Welp, guess I’m going to this party to meet with these people I know aren’t coming. We get there and I separate from the pack, cuz introvert, and I meet another girl, fellow wallflower.  We talk for a second and another guy joins the conversation, he’s basically trying to dirty mack.  A couple of his boys join our little corner, we all talk about the wack ass food. They say they’re going to eat elsewhere, they invite her, she asks me and her homegirl to tag along.  Once again, I’m headed out with a bunch of strangers.

And it was the probably one of the better days I had.

Now heading out solo isn’t something I do often, or at all really.  When I am out and about alone I’m usually shopping or eating because those things seem perfectly normal to do. Otherwise, you look weird. I was at the movies the other day and in the row in front of me was a dude, alone, eating popcorn and enjoying Magneto drop a baseball stadium around the White House, I salute him, but I couldn’t do it. So there I was with someone who ain’t even like comics but beats being solo.  Going back to that odd night, after the ladies left, I rolled with the fellas to the club, now I just met these dudes so I saunter off to do my own thing, something I do with my actual friends.  I came for the ladies and the drinks (c) Trey Yodelz.  Yet if I walk in alone I look weird.  Society confuses me.  I love lamp.

Flying solo is just one of those things that most will admit is ballsy but will never do themselves.  I guess I’m in that camp as well, I ended up #thatguy by circumstance and even so I always at least had the appearance of friends I would’ve been right back at home alone talking to myself in front of thousands of strangers on the internet; like a normal person.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… FATHERS

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No.

I used to love Father’s Day.  A quarter century ago, I was BORN on Father’s Day.  (So darling readers, I accept ecards, baked goods and Paypal) Before social media I never knew backlash against Father’s Day was even a thing.  Ah, ignorance was indeed bliss.  Now, this Sunday I might just avoid social media altogether because they have obliterated Father’s Day.  Father’s Day was pure, no religious separatism (Christmas, Easter), no Native Americans were harmed in the creation of this holiday (Columbus, Thanksgiving), wasn’t sullied by a three day weekend of debauchery (MLK Day, Memorial Day), it was an American holiday we got right….. Until Twitter can in with a steel chair when the refs back was turned.  Now its become a day of shaming, bitterness, and poor taste. 
It starts with #thedebate.  For what it’s worth I think its disrespectful to men and women for single mothers to try to “claim” the day, however it came to be that you’re now raising a child alone, be the best parent you can be that being said, you’re not a f@&*ing father.  It is literally that black and white.  It took two.  You caught the touchdown but someone, buckfoy or not, threw that muhfugga.  I’ve gotten into arguments over this position, been accused of judging, and having privilege; whatever.  I don’t need to know your life, you didn’t fertilize an egg. Case closed.

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No.

What probably annoys me more is #theshade.  Parents on social media dragging the others name through the mud for likes and retweets.  You wouldn’t go on stage in front of hundreds of friends, family and acquaintances and deliver a soliloquy about how this man YOU chose is this that and the third but you will write it on Facebook and hit post.  You wouldn’t speak at a function and badmouth the ones who aren’t there, but again you’ll taint your well wishes with qualifiers.  Perhaps this grinds my gears because people really pretend the internet and real life aren’t the same.  REAL people read your posts, REAL people are judging, REAL people will REALLY hurt you.

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No.

Rounding out this three headed monster is #theignorant.  The ones who use “fatherless” as a slur, the ones who do use this day to cast aspersions on single mothers.  There’s a difference between me saying a mother is not a father or keep your private matters private and some stay-at-home son judging a woman on who she chose to give her body to.  My father is present in my life but I’ll never act like that lends credence to my words over someone who was raised by a single mother.  Some perspectives I’ll never truly understand and I’ll never speak from them.  If only others would do the same, then well maybe Father’s Day wouldn’t be where it is.

Men don’t make a fuss over gifts, so the market will never make Father’s Day THAT big a deal.  It’s only been around about 40 years, so it’ll never catch Mothers Day (well over a century old), but what I hope Father’s Day will become is the good natured celebration it ought to be.  So this Sunday, I’ll probably chop it up with my pops, salute another year of not slipping one past the goalie, hit up the homies who did and watch the Finals.  No room for negativity in my life (especially my birthday week).

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… BOUGIE

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Swag.

So an acquaintance invites me out, I figure what the hell and roll thru. Anyway, I’m on my way to meet him and a couple associates at this lounge, I hear someone yell “oh shit” “bllllllllaaaaat”, I look across the street, it’s some homies from around the way.  I go over to them talk for a bit, like one dude I didn’t know like that legit broke down my whole outfit, like “i see you, got fresh cut, button up, shoes, cuff links….” (like who even notices cufflinks, I swear he was so ready to rob me, he knew better, dont let these non prescription glasses that just completed the look fool you).  Anyway, they ask what I’m bout to get into

“I’m about to hit up Emerald”
“That’s that new lounge, there be some thangs over there?”
“Idk this gonna be my first time”
“Oh ok then, we gotta get up, you aint too bougie for the hood now?”
“Watch that sh t. Anyway, I was out there like last week (more like 3 weeks ago and none of them were there but still), i just dont be in the city like that”
“Oh yeah you out in the boonies now too, you only come to THIS part of town”
“You here too”
“(Redacted) got this white girl out here, college bitch, there bout to be a party over there, get some college girls” (He’s like 30 i believe)
“Iight let me know how that is”

We all exchange numbers because they cant keep a damn phone on to save their lives, and I go about my business.  That whole conversation made me feel some type of way.  Particularly the “bougie” label.  Granted other people have called me bougie, or mocked bougie things i’m into but I didn’t like how HE made that reference.  There’s a difference between playfully ribbing listening to Goapele and implying i’m “too good” for anything or anyone. A difference between trying to expand my social circle and forgetting where I came from.  I’ll always be T-Mac with tales I’ll never tell here but I’ll never be T-Mac, a 30 year old “O.G.” hitting up college parties.  That makes me “bougie” so be it.

Bougie is one of those terms I can’t ride with. I’m just about old enough to remember when it wasn’t an endearing term, in the same vein of newbreeds running around calling themselves “pretty boys” now, nah. I’ll divulge my own hypocrisy, I’ll poke fun at a friend who only drinks wine, eats kale or is from or plans to move to DC (but Stan, you wanna move to….shhh). In essence its in jest, not being separatist. Perhaps he was as well, but he don’t know me like that. Personally, I don’t really see the difference between owning being “bougie” and being told you “act white”. Yet bougie is the new black, pretty sure its the most popular term in the black blogosphere (because merely blogging makes you bougie now, cant a ninja just opine). There’s about 50 lem lists about things bougie black people do (apologies if you read the title and thought this was the case here) and even Buzzfeed set Twitter ablaze with a How Bougie are You quiz (i scored quite low actually….thug life?). The spectrum is set at ratchet and bougie, and you can find me in the middle with a du rag listening to Jeezy, drinking almond milk, blogging on my neighbors WiFi, with a USB keyboard because my laptop is missing keys. (Or on mt smartphone in a suit sipping Starbucks tea)Guess that makes me Boughetto (with a soft g, hard g sounds fake elitist)

-Stänley le Gémini

-Stan-

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