A couple of days ago I was invited to a private fan party for Jadakiss in Manhattan. I was very confused for several reasons:

1.) I didn’t even know Jadakiss was still a thing
2.) I didn’t know he had enough fans to even host an event like that
3.) How do I even know Jadakiss again!?

I wanted to tell my friend “NO!” when he asked me to go with him. After all I am hardly a fan of Jadakiss. I couldn’t name a Jadakiss song if you had a knife to my throat…

"For the last time I don't know any Jadakiss songs!"

But I hadn’t seen this particular friend in quite awhile, and it was an open bar from 7 to 8. And like any woman knows you can’t say no to free drinks. So I agreed to go. When we finally got to the venue I was shocked to see that there was a line outside. A line might I add that was full of the weirdest people I’d seen in awhile, and I live in Bushwick so that’s saying something. So I assumed a position in the rear of the line with my friend. While I stood there I was a bit uneasy. I was hoping that there wasn’t any visible sign for the event, I didn’t want the multitudes of people walking by to know, that I was standing in line to show my appreciation for Jadakiss. While I stood there a biker whizzed by and promptly got hit by a Taxi. We all looked on at the scene unfold, as the girl laid in the street screaming, and people near her called paramedics. For a brief period of time I was relieved, for now all the attention was down the street away from the Jadakiss line! Still, I slunk back behind some people to hide myself from view.

After standing in line for 20 minutes it became apparent that they were arbitrarily holding up the line to stall out the time for the open bar. I debated leaving right at that moment, and had been there by my lonesome I definitely would have left. Actually if it was just me I never would have went to begin with.

After a few more minutes we finally got in the door. Once inside everyone got patted down by security. Honestly if you are trying to assassinate Jadakiss you need to look at the bigger picture.

Once past security we walked in a bit further where a young girl was giving out raffle tickets. Nothing says street like a raffle… She gave me my ticket and said, “hold on to it, we are going to have a drawing for Jadakiss cds and merchandise later”. As soon as she said that the muscles in my hand went slack, and I dropped my ticket on the ground. The ticket girl noticed bent down to retrieve my ticket and gave it back to me. She wanted to make sure I was in the running to win some sweet Jadakiss items. I thought about if I “won” something how upset I would be. I couldn’t sell anything, that I could possibly win there, and I damn sure couldn’t give that shit away. So I just gave my ticket to my friend, who looked at me like I him herpes.

FINALLY we made it to the bar. There was still 10 minutes left! There was a guy ahead of me. I watched him order a Heineken, the bartender came back put it down and said to him, “That will be $10″

I got the fuck away from the bar and stood near the “VIP” area. It’s doubtful you could be that important of a person, earnestly listening to Jadakiss. The waitress in the VIP area informed me that if I put 2 bottles of Ciroc for $600 I could sit in the VIP section with Jadakiss. I was so taken back by that statement that I just stood there speechless. Here I was with the opportunity to hang out with Jadakiss, and the only thing I could think of is that I don’t even know what Jadakiss looks like! Jadakiss could’ve been standing next to me the entire time I was there and I would have had zero idea.

He looks like any bama you'd see in Brooklyn

After that thought sank deeper into my conscious than I would’ve I evaluated my life up to that point, and decided that it was time to leave.

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“Anyone can do it Jamaal!”

White privilege, it’s something I was innately aware of for awhile but it wasn’t until last year or so that I knew there was a name for this social phenomenon.

Things tend to affect you a bit more when you know without a doubt that something not only exists, but it has a name.

Case in point the itis I had no idea what the itis was and then someone in Atlanta told me about it, that very same day I ate a handful of grapes and out of nowhere I got the itis. Mind over matter and all that jazz.

Like my realization of the itis, when I realized white privilege was a thing, then I started to notice it more often. It went from a rare occurrence to an almost daily spectacle almost over night. Sometimes it’s hilarious, other times absurd, but it’s always ridiculous. Especially when you realize people are oblivious to their own brattiness.

Privilege #1
One of my old roommates asked if he could use something that belonged to me. I looked at him and flatly said “No”. That should’ve been it, there was no need for any further discussion. But that privilege kicked in. He went ballistic, calling me all kinds of names. How dare I not allow him to use something I bought with my own hard earned money. The audacity of me!! I had some kind of nerve saying “no” like that. Where the fuck do I come off telling someone they can’t use my stuff?? WHERE THE FUCK!?!

Privilege #2
I was at a table with a group of people and a young white woman was telling a black woman how easy it is to find time to travel, and that the only thing holding the black woman back from seeing the world was her own fear and insecurity. Not bills. Not family. Not school obligations. Not work. Just her own fear and insecurity. The black girl took that about as well as you expect she would. She looked that white girl dead in her eyes and gave a big fake ass smile, and said “Shit you are totally right. ALL this time I’ve just been holding myself back”.

"Thank you for that revelation"

Privilege #3
A young white woman at a bar spilled half of her Vodka on me. To make matters worse she didn’t even apologize. In fact she didn’t even notice me at all. I was like Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man. The only time she noticed me is when I tapped her on her shoulder, at which point I brought it to her attention that she had just spilled quite a bit of Vodka on my jacket.

You don't spill drinks on my jacket. I do!

This was her chance to redeem herself and not be another drunk ass bitch in the club. But instead she said “Ohh good thing we are both drunk! You are a cutie!!”

Annoyed I replied, “I am not drunk, and you are still spilling your drink on me!” Still not getting it she started to dance up against me, I was starting to get pissed at this point. Then she looked up at me and said, “Mmm you smell good what cologne are you wearing?”

I looked her dead in her eye and said, “Vodka! Vodka that your drunk ass spilled on me!”.

She replied “It smells great!”


Okay that last one might have been more a case of drunken bitch behavior than white privilege.

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Under the radar…

I’m sure we’ve all had that moment. You can’t remember the last time you last felt the tender caress of someone intimately. Perhaps it’s only been a few days, weeks for some, years for others. Regardless of the amount of time, the feeling is the same. So you set about to change your fortune. There are 7 billion on the planet at least 3 of them have to find you attractive right??? With that mindset you don your best threads and set out to find love. Depending on what day it is, what time it is, and where you are you might find a sea of attractive people out mingling or slim pickings. Regardless of the setting you find yourself in you will scoop out the people you could see yourself with. People on the same “level” as you most likely. Or so you think!

You start playing the numbers, and much to your dismay things aren’t going so well. You are getting turned down left and right. People you talk to either have a boyfriend/girlfriend or just flat out refuse your advances.

"Ughh sorry that shirt has a wrinkle in it, this won't work!"

On a normal night you might get discouraged at this point and give up hope. But you’ve been doing that for years maybe. Tonight is the night! You left the house for intimacy and damn it you are going to get busy with someone. As the night goes on the same scenario plays out over and over again. As the rejections mount you start to downgrade yourself, and question your own attractiveness.

"Maybe I'm not a 10 after all..."

With this self devaluation comes a downgrade in standards. And regardless of whether you consciously downgrade yourself or not, if you’ve been drinking this whole time your standards have been slipping with every sip. The longer your search for intimacy drags on the lower your demands are. I’d like to say there is a floor in this type of scenario, a point that is so low that you won’t cross it…

But sometimes you get what you can...

So now someone, whom in any other scenario you wouldn’t pay any heed too is suddenly on your radar. You might have some doubts…


“Maybe I should just go to Taco Bell, and masturbate” (Hopefully not in the drive-thru)

“Should I try again next week?”

But then you remember you came here with one goal and one goal only. So you chug that drink and you go for it. Finally things go your great. I mean how could they not? At this point you are scraping the ground underneath the barrel. This is someone that you not only wouldn’t bring home to mom, this is someone you wouldn’t want to bring anywhere! You try and hurry things along, lest you get jeers from the attractive people who rejected you earlier. Don’t want them to see how low you’ve sunk.

You see some of them looking, in your periphery and perhaps you yell at them in your head, “You drove me to this bastards!!!”

After what seems like an eternity you finally make it back to your house with your new friend. You get the release you seek and you drift into slumber resolute in the fact that someone still finds you attractive, glossing over the fact the feeling isn’t really mutual.

Realization sets in early the next morning, when you see what it is you’ve just done. Maybe times have been really rough and you decide to keep this person around until things get better for you. I’ve made that mistake, Don’t do it!!

*This next part might seem assholish (But it’s real)

I’ve been in the scenario I’ve mentioned previously. It sucks, sometimes it drags on forever. People just settle into what becomes familiar to them. Sometimes it’s accepted usually it’s not. As the situation continues the “friend” starts to get a confidence boost! Suddenly the playing field is leveled. That 1 you found in the dumpster behind Dunkin Donuts now feels they are an 8! I mean they are with you right!? That’s all the validation of their new rank, that they need. So now this charity booty call wants to do stuff. Real stuff! Stuff you’d do with an actual girlfriend or boyfriend. And now shit gets awkward. One day after another “intimate” encounter they flat out ask you “Why don’t you ever take me anywhere?”. Now you have to either come up with an excuse, or come clean.

It’s best not to come up with an excuse, because what ever excuse you have will need to be something that can be applied indefinitely going forward far into the future. So unless you are deathly allergic to everything that isn’t your bed, it’s best to come clean. Who knows maybe you do cave-in and take them out. But when you go out it is super awkward. You are walking so fast that you are practically running, and your “friend” doesn’t understand the rush? They want to walk leisurely through the park, hold hands, laugh, etc. You know, do all the stuff that real couples do. It hasn’t hit them yet, that you two will NEVER work. Now you could keep this up just to feign enough interest, to continue to have a friend with benefits. But you are just kicking that can down the road. And damn is that can ugly.

If you do drag it on, they will eventually want to meet your friends. Maybe even come over for family functions. But remember this is someone you didn’t even want to introduce to your dog… Yea…

So if you are at the point where you’ve dragged this on this far, you are an asshole. You will feel sorry for them of course when you finally break the news to them. But more likely than not you will feel even more pity for yourself for stooping this low for so long. And that makes you even more of an asshole.

But hey it gives people hope!

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Just the tip….

I want to start this off with a question. Do people actually just put the tip in, and then just take it out? Is that something that happens in sexual encounters?


Also while I have your attention ladies, don’t fall for the promises of guys out here. We will call these smooth talking gentlemen “tippers”. They will promise you the world ladies. They will tell you they are going to take you to new sexual heights. They are going to drive your body to the beach and lay with you naked on the sand as you gaze up into the heavens. But in reality half way there the car is going to break down, and they are going to turn to you and ask you to help them push… And if you give them a second chance it will happen again, only this time they are going to ask you for gas money X_X

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Social Media on alcohol.

I find that when I’m drunk I pay a lot more attention to my grammar and spelling, than I otherwise would. Isn’t that the opposite of what should happen? Shouldn’t I generally care about that kind of stuff. If I want to use writing as it’s intended, to communicate and to record thoughts, I should make sure it’s written correct, so others can understand it.

Shit, even make it legible for myself later. I’m sure we’ve all been in a really boring class at one point in time or another.

You are sitting there struggling to stay awake.

You should take careful notes so that you can pass the exam. But you are so tired that you just can’t be bothered with things like punctuation. The last thing you wrote down was a word who’s last letter extends all the way down the page and on to the desk. That’s the point when you succumbed to exhaustion and just let your arm go limp.

But again, why is it when I’m drunk, that I actively try to ensure all my “i”s are dotted and my “t”s are crossed. I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m trying to hide the fact I’m inebriated when interacting with others impersonally.

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Walking in the shoes of others (A Tax Season story)

When someone feels that you don’t understand them or their struggles the first thing they will usually tell you is “Walk a mile in my shoes!”

"Umm my doctor says I should wear orthopedics only"

But when Tax season comes rolling around, things change. Now all of a sudden I want to walk in whomever shoes will give me the most loot! Suddenly all of my personal information is negotiable. When the tax preparer asks me questions such as my age, gender, occupation, marital status, etc. all of my answers are on a sliding scale. I’m a 19-88 year old veteran, nurse, teacher, politician, or student. who is either currently married, recently divorced, widowed, or single. I’m also either a chinese woman, a black mother of 4, or an Armenian immigrant.

In one day I go from this.




And with online filing I can live in any of the 50 states!

*This is purely satire I don’t actually do this

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The “Other” box on Facebook

I never noticed that there is an “Other” box on Facebook. And apparently it’s been there for a long time…


This message was sent in January!

When I click those speech bubbles at the top it always defaults to the “Inbox” you actually have to know about the “Other” inbox. At least I do, since I have the attention span and attention to detail of a 5 year old…

But this inbox makes me look like an asshole. Especially when people have actually sent me messages, and I unknowingly tell them they are a liar. Turns out they were telling the truth. I just wasn’t their friend at the time, so it went to the spam folder that I didn’t even know I had.

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Running Away

Remember being a child, and “threatening” your parents by saying “I’m going to run away!!”. Because they asked you to do some mundane chore like clean your room or do your homework (tasks that usually benefitted you).

And they looked back at you thinking to themself, “Shit! You mean I don’t have to pay to feed you, buy you clothes, or take time to drive you around!!”. Then they smiled and simply said “okay”.

Then you got nervous. How could it possibly be this easy? I mean how could they just let you go. YOU of all people the princess/prince of the household. At this point two scenarios could play out.

Scenario #1
You run away, because mother fuck cleaning your room. If your parents wanted your room to be clean all of the damn time, they wouldn’t have bought you all those damn clothes and toys to put in it. If they want it clean, they should clean it.

So you finally broke away! The wind is blowing through your hair and life is good. You can do whatever you want when ever you want. Nobody is there to boss you around anymore. You spend the day playing outside wondering why you didn’t do this sooner. Things are finally turning around for you!

But then…

Hunger kicks in. Forgot that you had to eat didn't ya!

You haven’t eaten all day, and now it’s the only thing you can think about. You have no options since you are a kid, meaning you probably have no money. And you were most likely an idiot so you didn’t even think to pack any rations. The only thing in your backpack is a laptop, cellphone, and some dvds… Fine I’ll just go back to sleep and figure it out tomorrow.

You try to lay down but, damn it you just can’t get comfortable. Bugs crawling on you and the night chill don’t make for a good sleeping environment. OOPS! Guess you shouldn’t have run away.

Scenario #2
You think about why you’re parents don’t hesitate to let you go. And then you actually think about everything, that your parents do for you. And you sheepishly look up and ask.

"What's for dinner?"

If I’m going to grace you with my presence you better cook bitch!

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I’ve noticed something. It’s not something that I’ve just now noticed. I’ve seen it for years, all over the place. I just never thought much about it, until now that is…

I’m talking about the use of women as a sign of affluence. If you don’t know what I’m talking about maybe this party flyer will enlighten you

Try to ignore Martin Luther King...

What do you see in that? Three things in particular should stand out, no Dr. King isn’t one of them. I’m talking about the signs of wealth and opulence: money, high end consumer goods (In this case brand name alcohol), and women. Because you aren’t truly having a good time or living the good life unless you have all of those things. Some of you still might not be following me so here is yet another flyer…

"We got women ya'll!"

What purpose does the woman ever serve in these flyers. Other than being some kind of asset to be handed out to patrons like alcohol. How strange would it be if the roles were reversed. What if that fellow in the background was on the couch tootin’ it up and she was in the back looking disinterested?

And women are guilty of this same thing. Yes that’s right women show off other women to show how good their life is. Or how much fun they are having. It’s one thing if you are taking a picture with your friends, and something else entirely when you are just taking a picture of your friends in suggestive positions the line is pretty thin. And the type of woman in these situations is key. The lighter the skin the more “high class” the engagement.

Case in point:

If the women you are putting on display are white you are living the "champagne life"

This is a photo from a friend’s Facebook. She is a black woman who came here to New York to vist. She could’ve taken a picture of literally anything the empire state building, dinner at some fancy restaurant, shit she could’ve even taken a picture of actual champagne.  But she took the well worn road and just took a picture of some women, women that she probably didn’t even know, to show how good life is here.

And again imagine this picture if instead of two drunk women on a pole it was two drunk men. Doesn’t really have the same effect. It conveys an entirely different message…

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Flu for the kiddies

Saw a parent giving their child medicine on the train earlier today. A normal person would see that and have their heart warmed. But NOT me!

When I saw that scene I thought about the mothers whom have killed their kids via drowning and other means. Did they give their children medicine when they were sick? Where those mothers at their child’s bedsides when they were in the grips of a strong fever? Did they stay home from work to tend to their child’s needs?

"He wanted me to cut the crust from his sandwiches I didn't know what else to do..."

If they were there to take care of their children that makes their crimes all the more fucked up. Because when you are killing a kid, no matter what kind of angle you try to spin to a judge, that isn’t a case of temporary insanity. It takes a lot to kill a child. Even more when the child in question is your own. It’s something you have to give a LOT of thought. Even in dire situations killing your kids isn’t one of the first things on your list. For example if you were fired from your job, like millions of other Americans in this recession, you would probably think, “Going to have to cut back on a few things”. You probably wouldn’t think, “Gonna have to cut my kids up into tiny pieces”. You might eventually, but that thought isn’t going to all of a sudden just pop up in your mind when things get tough.

"Mama's gonna take care of you. You will never feel bad again!"

So taking care of a kid that you know you are going to kill somewhere down the line, can be taken in one of two ways.

1. Vindictive e.g. I want you to be in the best health possible when I eventually murder you. I want you to feel this pain I’m bringing.

2.  Sorrowful e.g. I’ve already decided to kill you, but I’m having some doubts, so I will be your mother. And hopefully kill you with kindness.

So next time you see a parent in public taking care of a sick child think about what I’ve said here, and you will be just a little bit more insane. And who knows maybe when things get bad in your life, you’ll immediately choose the path that should be the last choice first!

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