Category Archives: Oh, Internet

Today’s Word is… BANKSGIVING

So I was chillin out maxin relaxin all cool one day when I had stumbled upon this tweet:

At first glance I found it to be ridiculous. Charging your own family for Thanksgiving dinner? That’s absurd. Thanksgiving is (about remembering that time Native Americans learned the hard way about trusting white people) about family and togetherness. Reflecting on the year and being grateful for the things and people you have in your life. And then there’s Grandmamauntie, working tirelessly preparing a 6 course Thanksgiving meal for free.99. All she asked was that you showed up and didn’t bring a white woman home. (Kidding, of course… Maybe… Grandmamauntie still has some things she needs to sort out, and she doesn’t believe in therapy. You’ll deal cuz the greens is lit.) Grandmamauntie would never charge a cover for Thanksgiving; she cooks with love. (Don’t show up at people’s houses empty handed tho, have some couth) How would she look charging people on the one day that even the homeless eat for free. I’ve hosted dinners and cookouts and well…..they ain’t cheap, B. Of course I never thought about how much it cost because it’s family and friends and who does that?

But now, We live in an age where people think tweeting a thread is labor and (panhandling) getting paid for it. If that’s the case, then damnit Run. Grandmamauntie. her. coin. #Banksgiving. The game done changed. The price of the brick going up. And you know why? Because we don’t use pre shredded cheddar cheese in the macaroni we want smoked gruyere and gouda you know how much a lb of smoked gouda cost? Then your cousin is vegan this month because she has a vacation coming up, you ain’t get invited but now gotta accommodate. Your uncle’s new girlfriend has a gluten allergy so you can’t have the Hawaiian rolls out. You and her went to school together, she ain’t have no damn allergy. Your sister’s “roommate” packed 2 plates before you learned their name. Then there’s the auntie who is only there to pitch her pyramid scheme. Your other cousin brought a bottle of Svedka but then took the Remy to the face. Him and his friend “took a walk” and now they broke off turkey legs. Your sister hovering around snapchatting all the food like, “get you a me”, she ain’t make nothing. She brought plates. And Grandmamauntie takes it all in stride because she only sees y’all once a year because everyone has a her blocked on Facebook because she keeps sending game invites. You’d pay the 30 just to not have to unblock her.

I’m curious how it would work logistically….do you make an eventbrite link or charge at the door? I gotta text a cousin to get on the VIP list and get white meat? Is there reserved seating? I’m not paying $30 to be at the kids table. Maybe get a wristband. Does Grandmamauntie got a Venmo? Does the $30 allow for to go plates or you gotta eat everything there like at the sushi bar. What if it’s my second stop and I’m not that hungry, can I pay $10 to see everybody? If the stuffing is dry can I get it taken off my order? Are ladies free before 5? Can I get in with jeans and sneakers? I have all the preguntas, for this new world order. Or perhaps even simpler…don’t host Thanksgiving if you can’t afford to host Thanksgiving. Do a potluck. Whatever you do, don’t let pay me for my emotional labor Twitter have you getting exiled from the family.

Happy Thanksgiving.

-Stan-

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Filed under La Familia, Oh, Internet, Randomness, Uncategorized

Today’s Word is… JORDANS

I haven’t owned a pair of Jordans since the 90s. As I said the other day, I wasn’t even that big of a fan. And I learned pretty early that I could cop 2 pairs of sneakers for the price of one pair of J’s. These shoes were gonna have to last the year and I had to game the system. Now, I’m about to get a pair. Maybe 3. Not because I’ve suddenly become a Jordan fan (it’s still fuck him for the most part) but because fuck respectability economics. The Air Jordan sneaker has become a symbol of black economic waste; never mind systemic racism, black people can’t get ahead but got them J’s tho. This anti black pathology has trickled down amongst our own, particularly the blavity blacks, who love praising the Bill Gates and Mark Zuckerbergs for being rich but not indulging in material things (those “generic” tees and hoodies retail for $900 hemmed with the hair of mermaids, so shut up) meanwhile hood blacks can’t get it together because they are too busy trying to look wealthy than be it. It gives false credence to the idea that only ignorant black people allow themselves to be suckered into capitalism like Susan and Spencer ain’t about to be camping outside Best Buy next month for a Vizio. Maybe we just want a pair of Jordans, because we work hard and want something for ourselves. You’re not the talented tenth because you wear Sketchers. (never trust a black man in Sketchers). Then last week, Amanda Seales of woke phi woke inc, the MTV VJ (and self proclaimed sneakerhead) turned 5th billed actress on Insecure added fuel to the flames recently by getting on Twitter and ranting about how having Jordans and Nike suits but not having a passport means you’re losing in life.

Now, I have a passport. Perhaps the wrong one because mine didn’t come with plane tickets, hotel deals, at least bout 7 personal days, food or drinks. Nope, my passport is just a regular ID booklet with an awkward picture because after the first 2 didn’t come out right I’m self conscious so I just took what was given. Yes, it is access. Yes, it’s something good to have. No, it doesn’t make you more worldly more cultured or somehow superior to your Jordan donning peers. Blavity Blacks and the likes love to move the goalposts in that way, just far enough that they can reach it and then establish it as the standard. But the goalposts can be moved on them just as easily, “you’re flying to another country, making some hotel owner richer, barely leave the resort and now think you’ve seen the world”,”you visited, but did you study abroad tho”, “you flew 12 hours and not first class…you’re losing”. It’s tacky and ridiculous and wish it would stop. Everyone doesn’t aspire to travel just as everyone can’t be an entrepreneur selling witty t shirts and body butters (see, now I’m doing it… Hurt people hurt people). Let people live.

We can all probably prioritize better. I’m not standing in line for Jordans (I do really hate the optics of that) but I’ve certainly opened my Mint app on a Monday morning and got a “oh no baby what is you doing?”. I’ve taken out $200 at the ATM only to look in my wallet the next day as and see a 20, 8 ones and bout 6 dollars in change. In that regard, a pair of Jordans actually is a better expense than one night of overpriced overwatered drinks. That money could’ve been better utilized like Bruce Wayne could use his money and influence to fix Gotham instead of running around beating up the mentally disabled, yet here we are.

It’s…. cute to think the very real income gap can be solved by buying cheaper sneakers but it isn’t. The problem is capitalism has to have winners and losers to work, the problem is after the great depression white families were given homes and black families were put in housing, the problem is I make 30% less than a white counterpart while having the same expenses. But that doesn’t matter, cuz I got some J’s tho (I didn’t actually get them, Jordans are ugly. Fight me.)

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… PERFORMATIVE 

On today’s episode of  “Whose Man’s is this anyway”, the legend of Supercuts.  So Boston has a…reputation for not having a lot of black people in spite of being about 25% black. Growing up, I had a bunch of black friends, went to pretty diverse schools and even while attending a PWI, largely kicked it with black people.  I say all that to say I never struggled with finding black here.  Then there’s, let’s call him Joe.  Joe moved to Boston for school, landed a nice gig figured he should make some roots.  Joe finds a black networking group, makes a few friends and talks about how glad he was to find his folk. White people are exhausting.  Now,  he was amongst his own and feeling safe around his peers Joe asks the one question every black man in a new city must know… 

“so where can I get a fresh cut at?” 

My peers and I get ready to toss out suggestions because in situations like these you gotta ride for YOUR barber like you would your house on Game of Thrones.  Lamont, the sage House Cut N Edge, architect of fades, beard slayer… But then Joe provided a follow up…

“but I mean, I don’t want to go to the hood tho… I’d go to Supercuts before all that” 

And like that it was maaaaan, fuck your haircut.  Granted,  my barbershop isn’t in the hood (rather the hood is not longer in that area) but why give that level of satisfaction.  Maybe Supercuts Joe picked up some bad habits hanging with Dwight, or maybe he is just a blavity black.  

“Blavity blacks” (h/t @hausmuva And no shade to Blavity but it’s hard to resist good alliteration) are black people acting like white people trying to be down with black people, but they ARE black so it isn’t really appropriation as much as it’s… performative.  They dusted off an old invite to the cookout and you don’t really ask what took them so long to slide through because they brought good liquor.  (see Glover, Donald. Peele, Jordan.)  After years of lamenting not being black enough, or being awkward and being a special snowflake because they listened to The Strokes more than the Blueprint in 2001, now they blackity black black y’all. 

Blavity blacks are the type to wax poetically about how iconic and black Redman’s MTV Cribs episode was while they wouldn’t be caught dead in the hood because in real life they identify more with the MTV crew than Redman.  Blavity Blacks looooove them a black catchphrase t shirt about “these hands” being “carefree” and “unapologetic” but let their white friends touch their hair.  They write 25 tweet threads about the time a white cashier punked them. They act as if liking “Bodak Yellow” is a guilty pleasure like they aren’t the target demo. Blavity blacks wear du rags ironically, have flings with hood folk but won’t settle for them and oversell their affinity for chicken and Henny.  They buy “melanin” t shirts to support black business but wishes the Jamaican spot joins UberEats so they can stop going to *that* part of town.  Blavity blacks assign fake deep sociopolitical labels to rappers because then it’s okay to enjoy them.  

For what it’s worth, blavity blacks largely aren’t hurting nobody…its just extremely corny.  Because who are you explaining your blackness to?  I’m not impressed that you know the words to Wipe Me Down, I damn near expect it.  Perhaps it’s because I never struggled with my identity in that regard that I find it so eye roll worthy.  Or maybe I just never viewed blackness as how many pop culture references you know or if you can swag surf.  I’m Black because my parents are. And they parents. And they parents.  That would be a fact whether I watched Martin or Seinfeld growing up. 

However, what I do take umbrage with is the faux elitism.  I would never turn my nose at others or play superior on the internet like I’m not from the hood my damn self.  I’m sure I have some blavity black qualities  There’s plenty blocks I won’t milly rock on, and some things I make a little bit (seriously like it’s a little bit) too much to do anymore.   I don’t need to qualify my black ass tendencies or affirm it via t shirt.  Neither do the blavity blacks; yet there they go calling Young Thug a carefree black boy so people won’t judge them for bumping “Digits”.   You ain’t gotta lie to kick it, B. 

Stay black. 

-Stan-  

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Today’s Word is… SNAPCHAT

I have a love/hate relationship with Snapchat.  Sure, the idea of a taking a picture with a puppy filter or spending time creating a cartoon versions of yourself is fairly puerile. At least,  that part at least speaks to the layer of corniness that lies within me.  I’m not one of those weird people who hate filters because how dare someone look more attractive in a picture they took themselves for public consumption.   I enjoy watching other people’s “stories”, Sunday morning is perhaps the best time, the people I follow tend to have…eventful Saturday nights, while I’m a child of God. (who watches ratchet snaps on Sunday mornings… I’m just a person).  As for what I hate… I mean besides the massive battery drain, really creepy snap map feature, and the false sense of security that is a “disappearing” snap that anyone with a jailbroken/rooted device and see and keep forever?  Ironically, it was the same thing I love about Sunday morning. 

It happened when went out the other night and found myself on the wrong side of the snap, everyone snapping themselves and no one really dancing.  Then the few who were, now they are being snapped.  I’m sure your curated snaps are lit but as someone who was there in real lif,  I was bored cuz everyone wanted to snap that Bodak Yellow was playing instead of dance to it. Gone are the days when you had to rely on the club photographer who takes the sweaty high res picture that is never as flattering as you thought it was that night.  Even just a quick few group pics, now everyone is damn Spielberg.  Doing a public service that no one asked for.  Everyone doesn’t need to be “there”.  I just watched a video of Steph Curry making fun of LeBron at a wedding and my first thought was, (lightskinneds have no couth) and the second was, you were a guest at that man’s wedding B, who raised you?  Or is that just the voyeuristic society we live in now. 

What is the point of paying for a concert that you gonna record for free?  Do people realize that dark clubs and deep bass don’t make for quality content?  So not only are you killing the vibe but then the snaps aren’t even coming out worth a damn.  (Also, how haven’t skrip clubs banned phones somehow, it feels like I shouldn’t be seeing half the shit I be seeing…again, just a person).   Why can’t I post an old picture without Snapchat telling everyone that it’s a 2 week old picture, why you so loud, Snapchat damn?  Is your relationship even real if you never make the snap? Apparently not.  Why do I sound so old right now? Gross. 

I mean, I’m not THAT much different.  I have a Snapchat, a Twitter, a Facebook, an Instagram, and a blog… I operate with a heavy inclination that people give a fuck. It speaks to the narcissistic society we live in now.  We document our lives in spite of the fact that most of our lives don’t warrant daily coverage.  Snapping your drive to work, telling some 17 part confessional most people just going to skip, the need to post content when there isn’t anything worth posting.  On vacation, celebrating, having a fun night then by all means take pictures, capture moments, share your world…in moderation.  Maybe Snapchat needs a limit, like after 5 snaps it should tell you to log off and enjoy the moment. Or maybe its just some shit I might be a little too old to understand.  I still don’t even know how the score thing works.  

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… LURK

It starts off with the most innocent of intentions, I wonder what they’re up to.  As luck would have it, they’re page is public (because who has private pages anyway, it defeats the purpose, you’re not that special B) you casually browse their IG.  Maybe they’ve let themselves go a bit, you wonder to yourself why they STILL take pics in that outfit or why they post that meme like it isn’t talking about them?  Perhaps you stumble upon a fan of theirs who seems to like and comment every picture, you go and check them out… They aren’t you. A downgrade, really. Sad.  Now you grow more inquisitive.  Wait… How long they know each other? This picture was when y’all were still together.  What’s all this ki ki ing heart eye emoji shit? Did this motherfucker cheat on you?  With this baby teethed,  ill fitting clothes wearing, reposting the same picture from a 2 year old vacation talking bout #TBT take me baaaaack, how the hell you still unattractive with a flower crown muhfucka… NOW YOU’RE PISSED.  You start thinking about that one time they got in late and had some boring story about a coworkers flat tire that you checked out of mentally because you was cleaning the DVR.  Piecing together a bunch of clues that are as worthless as Hilary 2016 merch and you feel like a jackass, retroactively.  You wish they were there right now so you can dump they ass, instead you just block them.  Fuck what they been up to.  

Moral of the story,  nothing good comes from lurking.  

Yet we seemingly can’t help ourselves.  We’re too connected, gone are the days when a guy can go out for a pack of cigarettes, go two towns over and never have to see his family again.   I’m guilty of it as well, not because I want them back or anything, I just need to see that I won the breakup. (Kidding….mostly. Of course I won. )  I’m not alone, studies say nearly 88% of people have.  We all need Jesus, clearly.  That nagging curiosity is to our detriment, soon you find yourself on Instagram looking at what they doing but ain’t got shit to post for yourself.  It becomes less about them and more about what you’re missing.  

As for the lurkee, they can be just as complicit with the things they post.  HBO’s Insecure comes to mind as it currently stands as “nice guy” revenge porn.  Since it’s a 3rd person narrative, you actually get to see the ex grieving and openly pining while he can’t hear her over all the rebound sex he’s having.  The character of Lawrence has become a cult hero because he represents the unrealistic expectation of a break up.  That same expectation one thinks they are reaching with thirst traps and snaps at the club.  With subliminal status updates and not so subtle inferences at how their living their best life. But social media is the Disney version of real life, we all are presenting our best possible selves.  (Though some are obliviously bad at this).  You won’t see the 19 other outtakes of that selfie, the crowded Spirit flight they took to Miami or other the lonely nights more in line with their reality. 

So why do we fall for it when we lurk? Why do we front on social media in the first place?  Why was Takeoff left off of Bad N Boujee?  My personal social media is fairly boring for someone who’s…Had an eventful 18 months.  Because I don’t care who sees what I’m doing. When I find myself lurking pages and ultimately getting nothing out of it (even though this one time I accidentally followed an ex and didn’t realize it until I saw her on my timeline tweeting her homegirl about how I had the audamndacity to follow her… And then per her homegirls advice I was blocked. And you know what? I earned that L…Because nothing good comes from lurking)

Perhaps it’s the allure of the unknown, if you never do the dramatic unfollowing you’d see they are every bit as boring as they’ve always been.  Or even crazier, if you’re that curious to see what they are up to, maybe you could just reach out an–

Oh. Yeah. Right.  Well,  just be wary of the accidental like then.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… FLYOUT

true love story unlike any other…Boy tweets girl. Girl tweets boy. Boy DMs Girl. Girl gives Boy her number. Boy likes Girl. Boy lives at A. Girl lives at B.  Boy invites Girl to A.  Boy and Girl do adult things. Boy drives Girl to Gate.  Girl misses Boy. Girl intentionally misses flight to be with Boy. Boy has plans. Boy thought he was done with Girl. Boy ignores Girl.  Girl shows up at his place. Boy still ignores Girl.  Boy calls cops.  Girl is escorted away. Girl tells Twitter. Twitter laughs. Boy tells his side. Twitter laughs. Twitter loves no one. 

Flyout horror stories for whatever reason are pretty common on Twitter.   While I would never set myself up for that type of failure, others need to vent to somebody, anybody, and Twitter is always open.  The most common theme is being left stranded or after you fall out talk about how wack the sex was or how filthy the crib was that you clearly had no issue having sex in. (They always miss the irony in that).  In this day and age, meeting someone you met online is more common (because these days some women don’t ever want to be approached, looked at or thought about in real life).  As much as I enjoy a good flyout disaster story with my cup of coffee in the morning, I wish people would be smarter about it and follow the Flyout guidelines.

1. Stop leaving your house without money.  Didn’t your mama, auntie, hairdresser, neighbor, favorite reality TV star tell you this.  No matter how many facetimes, texts, and naked pictures you’ve shared, this is still a first date.   Act accordingly.  Have enough to get home, have enough to get a room.  

2. State your intentions. All of them. Be adults about the whole thing.  About sex and the relationship going forward.  You don’t want to fly out and end up in their dungeon or end up on Maury.  Get tested, wrap it up.  Be real about what happens next, is this something that’s sustainable or was “New Orleans just New Orleans”.   If you’re not looking for a relationship, let them know before you meet.  If you are looking for a relationship, let them know before you meet. Don’t play with people’s feelings, and more importantly, their bread. 

3. Get a hotel- You don’t know them.  They don’t know you. More importantly, you don’t know how clean their bathroom is.  If things break bad you can play sick, go home and know they can safely find their way back without you (Sorry.)  At least for the first meeting, then after that you just look married as hell

4. Neutral site- Perhaps just a personal preference of mine, if I’m paying for a flight, hotel, dinner….why not make a trip out of it?  (and Boston kinda small).Find a city convenient for both and meet up there, explore together.  

5. He goes first- Recurring theme here, let him court.  If he’s bout that life, he’ll make the time, effort and trip to see you.  Even if it’s on Spirit. Okay, maybe not.  If you just happen to be in town….iight bet, but just don’t miss your flight. See opening anecdote. 

Sounds reasonable, right?  Treat the stranger you’re meeting from the internet to have sex with like a stranger from the internet you’re meeting to sex with, but that’s too pragmatic I suppose.  This is ebae, you have feelings, you trust them, they’re different yada yada yada.  Where is the line between being too trusting and too cautious?   Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.  If you’re going to do it, do it, with an open mind and an open heart. And if it does go bad, tell your friends. Don’t take the L on Twitter.  Because again, Twitter loves no one. Carpe DM tho.

-Stan-

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Today’s Word is… HURTBAE

o-hurtbae-facebook

So the other day on Twitter, not long after the timeline was basking in the glow of Valentine’s Day, showing off gifts, boasting how they started with a DM now they here and whathaveyou I had noticed a video was going viral.  I largely ignored it at first because in an age of vine and snapchat, a 7 minute video is pretty much a Martin Scorsese film.  Eventually, I gave in and watched.  Broken, a video from TheScene.com or as the stweets would call it #HurtBae, featured an ex couple seeking closure, and by closure the woman, Kourtney asked her ex, Leonard how and why he cheated and he pretended to care and jedi mind tricked her into thinking the entire breakup was a mutual thing.  The video itself was moving, I suppose but it made me wonder…WHY DO WE BOTHER WITH CLOSURE?  #HurtBae and her ex don’t live in the same state, she supposedly has a new man, a good man, so why did she even volunteer for this?  There was nothing this inward was going to say that was going to change anything.  He attempted to guilt trip her about her about her insecurity and why she didn’t just leave if he was clearly ain’t shit.  (I really don’t want to call dude a sociopath because he is only like 23, but this dude might be a sociopath).

I’ve touched on this last year, closure doesn’t work because the other person clearly doesn’t care that much.  They didn’t care about your feelings when they had you, why would they when they don’t.  #HurtBae wanted him to care so bad, wanted him to see that he broke her, and his only emotion was mild inconvenience.  Even after the video has gone viral and he doesn’t regret how he came off, he is just annoyed black twitter still flaming him. He started off calling her his best friend but looked her dead in her face as she cried and didn’t even attempt to reach out and console her (cuz, sociopath).  Hell, I’ve confronted cheaters and still ended up being the one consoling them (cuz, sucker), it’s just…instinct. How do you just sit and let someone cry in front of you? Someone you care for?

 

Unbothered.

Then to the elephant in the room, why did you cheat?  The answer is the same for why anyone does anything they wasn’t supposed to do…they thought they could get away with it.  If I go into a store, the clerk is so engrossed with their phone they refuse to do their damn job and I just walk out with my stuff because clearly they don’t want my money.  Rationalized? Yes. Still wrong tho.  (*sips stolen water*).  Asking someone why did they cheat is giving them an excuse to blame you for being wrong.  Fuck all of that, B.  It doesn’t matter what reasons you have, you were wrong, you knew you were wrong and you thought you could get away with it, or in dude’s case he KNEW #HurtBae wasn’t about to do shit.

I don’t know if Broken is a one off or a series, I would hope the former because I don’t see how it’s productive.  Forgiveness is very overrated.  Sometimes it’s easier to be like, “you hurt me, so fuck you” and keep it moving.  It’s not bitter, it’s not resentment, why place the burden on yourself to make them see that they was wrong?  Whether ol boy grows and learns from this wasn’t going to happen based on that conversation.  When I was her age (oh shit, I’m old), I was driving myself mad trying to get someone I loved to just try and see things my way.  Now, I just chill and wait for karma (because it’s unethical to pray for things to happen to people).  Maybe one day she’s going to wake up and realize she became everything I hoped she wouldn’t, hell maybe she already has.  I wouldn’t know. Don’t care neither.  Treat it just like I treat a certain segment of our “great” nation, when they are still poor, uneducated, uninsured and realize their mans changed sold them tragic beans, I’ll be chilling.  For #HurtBae, when ol boy is in his 30s, losing his hair, getting dogged out by the woman he wants to do right by and scrolling her social media, he might then realize he slipped up.  Because that’s how closure actually works.

-Stan-

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