i am a very strange cat. i know this. i've known it since i was eight years old, when i spent an entire summer not walking on any rocks because i had seen the monolith monsters, a movie about killer rocks overtaking the earth (imdb link provided just so you know that im not making this up) and turning n-words into stones. thing is, i always seem to have people who know me, but dont really know me, underestimate the sheer volume of this weirdness, thinking my proclaimations of odd behavior are just some contrived ploy to seem endaring. a cliche almost, like gnaris barkley on a myspace page. anyway, though, because i'm sure many people out there still arent convinced, i've decided to chronicle a portion of my daily life...before 12pm. showing you all what happens to me before twelve will give you a better glimpse of my utter anomalisticness (see what i mean??? why the hell would i type something i cant even pronounce like 'anomalisticness' when "weirdness" would have gone just fine??? nevermind. dont answer that) and the affronts to my quirky authenticity should cease

9:03

i get dressed for my daily exercise routine, putting on a pair of sweats and a superman shirt with the sleeve cut up. even though it's my favorite shirt to workout in, i'm always relucntant to wear it because of dane cook's skit about wanting to shoot people wearing superman shirts in the chest. its not everyday a 5"8, 160 white man 2000 miles away almost punks you out of wearing a shirt to go work out

9:19am

two minutes into my routine (four "walk, jog, run, walk, jog, run" times around my block and the hills surrounding it. a total of 2.5 miles. its not a game with the working out game) I turn a corner headed down a hill and see half of a pitbulls head in the front yard of a house i would be passing, not sure whether or not hes on a leash. because i know i turn into a *word that rhymes with "itch"* around dogs, i know i must u-turn before the canine with the 19 inch head catches wind of me. i also know that i'm running on a busy residental street, and if i make too sudden of a u-turn, the people in the cars passing by will realize that "this 6 foot *insert word that rhymes with "glitch"* ass superhero shirt wearin ass n-word is running from that dog!!! ha. lemme get the camera". i'm also listening to wu-tang's "america" on the ipod, which has the hook "aids kills, word up, respect this. america is dying slowly" and i start to envision myself dying slowly as the midgetheaded pitbull naws on my ankle. so, instead of turning around and running the other way, i come to an abrupt stop, and begin to backpedal...running. yes, you read that correctly. a 6 foot plus 200 pound plus black man running backwards on cementin a suburban neighborhood like he was at the NFL combine because he didnt want people to think he was scared of the midget in the pitbull costume. just so i didnt feel even worse about myself, i convince myself that this was a planned part of my workout routine, and i've actually incorporated it for every other day...the 50 yard backwards run on uneven cement.

10:07

because i just did 60 pushups and my arms are a bit inflated, i contemplate taking a pic of myself with my sidekick before i hop in the shower. i also begin to sing "we are the champions", but confuse it, randomly inserting lyrics from "bohemian rhapsody". im not making any of this up, btw.

10:37

it takes me almost 15 minutes to get dressed, mainly because i cant find any undershirts. you see, i seem to have somewhat of an oral fixation. or fetish. anyway, this "o.f." has caused me to bite tiny holes in most of my undershirts and wife-beaters. i guess its a nervous tic, but it's ruined at least 50 dollars worth of clothing. i think i may have been a dog in a past life. or a CD case

10:42

as i'm about to head out for work (for people starting to suspect i was tommy for martin, always having money but never actually going to work, i work from 1 to around 8. odd hours, i know, but thats the nature of the non-profit community center/afterschool program beast) i turn on VHI soul and see a mya video. for whatever reason, this reminds me that i'm currently going through my longest, ummm, "drought" since 1997. i begin to cry for the next 3 minutes

11:25

while walking to au bon pain for lunch, i think about the "what is this, amateur hour" line in anchorman, and i begin to laugh aloud uncontrollably for at least 10 seconds. in this time i pass by a woman with a short foot, who probably assumed that i was laughing at her. i check the windows in the stores and offices im passing by to see whether or not im on "punk'd", but i remember that my book hasnt been published yet so i'm still not a celebrity.

11:32

i finally get my lunch at "da pain". because of where im sitting, i have a pretty good view of the street and people walking past the window. a particularly fetching philly with the ass to waist ratio of a poor-mans hottentot venus happens to walk by, and i become visibly excited at the fact that i'll be able to get at least a 5 second unfettered glaze. right when shes about to get close enough to properly measure the ultra intricate jiggle-to-step ratio, a freakin hot dog stand and the hot dog stand guy cuts right in front of her, blocking my view. for exactly three seconds i sat there, steaming, while debating to myself whether or not i should actually get up and walk towards the window so i can get a better view. (please dont re-read that, lol). i have a personal rule to never blatantly get up or change your direction just because of a better look or triple take. always act like you seen one before, and, if you do need to alter your postion to get a better peak, do it discreetly. i'm also going through the worst drought of my post-virgin-ending life, a fact which pretty much makes my decision for me. i get up, move towards the window, and happen to catch quite a few lovely jiggles. i even say "oooh" aloud to myself like a pervert. i return to my seat and begin to spoon my mac and cheese, when i notice a undistinguishable green substance in the cup. either i havent noticed that a caper accidently was scooped into my bowl, or someone just put a booger in there. yes. a booger. a piece of partially dried mucus, sitting in my four dollar cup of extra cheesy mac and cheese. lets just say i was really, really, really hoping for the first option. because i couldnt come to a conclusive answer, i decide just to throw the rest of the cup away, guaranteeing i'll be hungry and irritable for the rest of the day

all of this happened in less than a three hour span, on a freakin thursday. is there still any doubt???

happy trails
987-986

you know, i was planning on coming here and giving a recap of the last week or so, a tale which planned to include references to the united colors of bennetton, gilbert arenas, sweat, power-u ass comcast cable, three reasons why third-world countries hate america, and how upset i was at myself for forgetting how thoroughly country cincinnati is, but after hearing the news tuesday night of the eighth young person i've known personally taken from this earth, shot and killed next to a park for God knows what reason, my thought process has changed course quite a bit.

i'm been sitting here for at least 10 minutes trying to figure out a way to express what i'm going to say next, the sudden bout of mushmindedness definitely a product of the aforementioned news. i didnt want to just come out and say that my man's death, this death, for whatever reason, let me know in no uncertain terms that i need to get my shit together as soon as possible, because i felt that saying that would seem a bit tactless, using a friends death and his families misery as my own personal herald. thing is, saying or typing anything else about this would be extremely disingenuous. when i received the call from my friend letting me know earlier this evening and when i saw it on the news, the prominent feeling going through my veins was a chill, a sudden frigid ass feeling letting me know that "shits getting too close now, d. you need to do something quick before your time's up"

along with the realization that im going to have to attend another wake, i guess this means that i need to finish this book asamfp.

i know its a horrible cliche to end an entry or passage about a deceased friend with a poem, but since my man "stubbo" was a ballplayer also, i think its fitting. i hope richard doesnt mind, and i hope this is the last time i have to do this.

fallen

we are gladiators with no swords or shields, just tank tops, orange rocks, jump shots and great hops

we are soliders with wooden terradomes
we fight fun and run
and run
and run
and run
and run
and run like summertime in the city and seattle slew
smooth like satchmo and santana
swishin' musicians...swish,
swish,
swish,
swish,
swish,
swishing heartsongs that quiet riots and choreographs chills cause were so...damn...cool

we are alchemists and eagles
winking at gravity and smirking silent

we aint Gods...
just proof that he loves us
praying on hallowed playgrounds,
we ARE the most pious
each no-look pass an act of penance
each player an answered prayer
breaking bread and sacrificing broken ankles

we are alchemists and eagles
winking at gravity and smirking silent
we don't die
we break skys
we fly high
we fly high
we fly high
we fly high

we don't die

happy trails
987-986

***an excerpt from an aim conversation sometime early last week with jacq, who recently lost over four years of writing when her server provider company shut down all of their sites*** (even just thinking about that possiblity gives me chills)

the champ: "...but yeah, i saw your new entry where you said "...On the positive end of things, I can now choose what to include on here starting from scratch. This means I will still be employable in a year and a half and maybe some medical school will let me pay them several thousands of dollars...". you know, i've been thinking about that also. honestly, considering some of the stuff i've written in the past, do you think i should be worried about something coming back and biting my in the ass...especially since i work in education?"

the jacq: "honestly?"

the champ: "duh"

the jacq "yes"

we went back and forth about that for the next couple of minutes, but it was basically a bunch of diva dude-ish posturing on my part. i knew she was right before i even asked the first question.

i get probably 200-300 hits per day from various search engines, with the majority of the queries being about esther baxter, hoopz, or jaimee foxworthy. also, as recently as two weeks ago, if you googled my full name, or even my first intial and last name, this site was the first thing to pop up. i'm saying all of this because the fact that my site is easily googlable (is that a word?) makes me a little more conspicuous than i should be, especially considering some of the things i've written about in the past. to a first-time reader who's unfamiliar with me or my sense of humor or the fact that i like to make fun of pretty much everything (including, most notably, myself), my words could very easily be misconstrued as racist or sexist or homophobic or xenophobia or olfactophobic (fear of smelly people) or even pornographic. when you add this with the facts that i've posted my full name here as well as my ex-fiancee's, pics of myself and family members, and easily obtainable knowledge about where im from and where i went to school, it makes for a potentially damaging ass situation.

to hopefully head this off a bit, i've made a few subtle changes in the past couple of weeks. one, the only entries that will be easily available will be the ten on my first page. everything else thats in my archives is now password protected. if you do want to go through some of my older shit, all you'll have to do is hit me on aim or email or even leave the request in the comments, and i'll get back to you asafp with the pass. two, i've made a concerted effort to watch the language a bit. no, this isnt about ti morph into the 700 club or anything...i'm still a gangsta teacher n-word with multiple tattoos, but certain words probably are going to be written alot less frequently. i'm going to actually have to use my english degree and find pg-13 synonyms and shit. three, i've removed all references to my full name (yes, smart-asses, i know my url and the header over my site gives that away. you cant have all the peaches in the can and still ride the coasters at sea world). the champ has a nice ring to it anyway...its so excessively cheesy that its actually endaring (or so i hope)

although these will undoubtably lower my traffic a bit, they serve three more valuable purposes...

1. to keep current and future employers (as well as parents and kids who know me) from "finding me". since i work in education this is very, very, very, very, very important. you haven't seen awkward until you have to explain what a "snizzle" is to a 47 year old soccer mom whose son is in your afterschool program. and no, that hasn't happened to me yet, and i'd like to keep it that way

2. makes things much more difficult for people like mr. power-u, digging in blog crates looking for entries to steal. this actually leads a bit to...

3. ...the books. i'm working on two at the moment, and both of them contain stuff that has been already posted on here (but edited and revised a bit). when they're actually completed and we're looking for good publishing deals, it would be kind of self-defeating to have stuff thats in the book so easily obtainable on a free website. why would anyone even bother buying it then?

its funny. even though i have unarguably good reasons to pass protect and edit a little now, part of me still didnt want to do it. theres a certain rhythm, a vigor even to being as free as you want to espouse whichever topic tickles your fancy as eloquently or graphicially as you desire, and i didnt want to leave any of that behind.

then i decided to act like a grown-up, lol

happy trails
987-986

...although i'm still not there yet emotionally, certain events that transpired last week (including the infamous "taming the monster" ordeal) have let me know in very plain terms that the champ, instinctually at least, is ready to regain his throne. "what damn throne????" you ask...well, thats of minor fucking importance. whats of major fucking importance is the fact that i was sort of, kind of back in summer 2003 mode on thursday of last week. no, i didnt bag anybody or even attempt to bag, but...i dont know...i felt, ready, or at least pretty close to it. i know "ready" probably isnt the best way to articulate this, but its one of those types of things were i think only somebody who's been in a similiar situation would be able to understand. on a scale of 1-10, with "one" being me here (wow...its been three freakin months since that) and "ten" being justin slayer, bill maher, or shawn kemp, i'm probably at around four and a half, much better than the steady "two" i've been at for a couple months now.

(please, dont blame me if that last paragraph makes even less sense to you than it did to me. its not my fault. this is usually where i blame jim jones, but i think the onus this time falls on the exquisitely fat behind i saw last saturday at the gap, distracting me to the point to where i bought a few pairs of boxer briefs in the wrong size, something i didnt realize until just now, when wondering why my drawers are excessively tight despite the fact that ive lost 10 pounds in the last month)

"...the exquisitely fat behind i saw last saturday at the gap, distracting me to the point to where i bought a few pairs of boxer briefs in the wrong size..."

...sign number 7926782 that i havent taken captain obvious to a "foreign base" in a pretty long time.

...oh, and just because i'm sure everybody wants to know, sign number 7936781 was the fact that i found sharon angela, the actress who plays rosalie aprile on the sopranos distractingly attractive during one scene sunday night. hopefully by this time next month i'm not up to sign number 7927000: "boy, eat n' park sure has the hottest elderly waitresses in the entire city"

...also, along with the haiku approach and the myraid other unique ways to approach women i have cooking up in that giant eggheaded skull of mine, i've devised another. be forewarned: the information i'm about to divulge isn't for amateur use, and any one attempting to use this techinique without the proper credentials or a written letter of consent from cornell west will be given the mr. power-u treatment if theyre ever caught.

heres the scenario: you're chillin basically by yourself in a sparsely populated medium sized restaurant/deli/coffehouse like a starbucks or a panera or a subway, sitting at a table, drinking a strawberry and shrimp shake and reading maus when a particularly attractive young lady walks in, alone. you make eye contact in a way that lets each other know that you're both clearly aware of each others presence, but dont speak. after ordering her food, she also sits down, in close enough proximity that you could possibly get a whiff of whatever shes wearing as she walks by and sits down, but not dangerously, drew barrymore in "poison ivy" close. for those still cloudy, i'm talking maybe a 12 foot separation. now, because she seems to be fully engrossed in her chicken salad and some dogeared copy of "angels and demons", you dont want to approach her, even though you know she's noticed you. plus, you're finished with your lunch, and probably should be headed back to work soon. a true dilemna, right? usually, yes, but not if you pull a sack move (and no, this has nothing to do with testicles. please remove your minds from the gutter. especially you.)

a sack move, actually, is a bit of a con. its a good hearted con though, something danny ocean probably would have pulled when he first saw tess. okay, remember the place this is occuring in? (a sparsely populated medium sized restaurant/deli/coffehouse like a starbucks or a panera or a subway.) this is also of major effing importance because trying it anywhere else will be dangerous. okay, so anyway, you get up to go throw your stuff away and leave. in the process, you make eye contact with the woman, smile for a sec or nod your head, and walk out the door. whats the big deal about that??? well, in your haste (because, you know, you need to get back to work and shit) you leave behind a book or a jacket or a atache...basically anything that anybody who was paying attention to you would realize was definitely yours, intentionally. this is where the fun starts. if the woman has a good heart, after you've taken a step or two outside of that door, you'll probably hear some variant of "hey...hold up...you forgot your bag". of course, you know this already...in fact, you've already begun your faux "damn. smh. i'm so absent-minded. stupid me" u-turn back into the store. you'll probably meet somewhere around the entrance, and of course you give her profuse thanks mixed with embarassment and gratitude...eventually offering to "somehow repay her...even if its a simple cup of coffee...something. anything. you have no idea how i would have felt if i lost that bag". if shes interested in you at all, she'd be a fool to turn this down. the rest is on you. no more help from the champ.

now, i can anticipate a few of you asking "okay, mr. smartypants. what happens if she doesnt budge...doesnt do anything to alert you about your left behind bag???", and to that i say....good. that lets you know everything you need to know about her. either she's A) too selfish to get up and alert you, or B) so completely unaware of your presense that she didnt even pick up on the fact that you left the bag. either way, its a sign that its someone that you probably dont want to be dealing with

of course, a simple "hey, i'm sorry to bother you, but i'd be kicking myself later on i i didnt ask you your name" would probably work just as well...but wheres the fun in that?

happy trails
987-986

...why black men have a right to be angry

tuesday morning 8:30ish

after waking and taking captain obvious on his customary morning walk, i jumped on the postgazette's website to check the forecast for the day. even though black men with multiple tattoos and degrees dont carry umbrellas, we still like to know whether or not its going to rain just so we know what to put in our ipods. anyway, while browsing the site, i end up finding this...

Two teens have been charged as adults in connection with a shooting in Wilkinsburg on Saturday. Fred Brown, 18, of Homewood, was killed when he was shot in the chest about 6:30 p.m. at Wood Street and Taylor Avenue.

Sean Williams Brooks, 16, of Wilkinsburg, is charged with homicide and a firearms violation. Clinton Lance, 15, of Clairton, is charged with one count of attempted homicide and two counts each of aggravated assault and reckless endangerment....

...rest of story

...the 7th person younger than me i've known personally who has passed away in the last 2 years, and the 4th former student (the shooter was as well). i really dont even know what to say anymore. i think i'm done with non-sports local news...forever

11:30ish

(its all her fault. damn you, you wet stacey dash)

i stop into au bon pain in town to get a fruit cup because, again, thats what black men without umbrellas in moderately heavy rains do...buy overpriced fresh fruit cups. on my way inside i notice a stacey dash doppleganger in a tight pants suit wetly running across the street to avoid traffic. re-read that. especially the "wetly running" part. for a better visual, imagine the "all falls down" video...except she's soaking wet. needless to say, captain obvious, ummmm, woke up rather quickly, an unfortunate occurance when you're a slightly drenched black man heading into a crowded store in town. since i didn't want the entire store recoiling in fear and running out into the street, i attempted to adjust myself and conceal my "lower happiness" by maneuvering my hips a bit while hold my fruit cup, hoping that the captain would fall back asleep. after realizing that wouldnt work, i reluctantly knew i had to go to plan b: use my hands. i placed the fruit cup on the counter, and pulled the front of my pants forward a bit while leaning, hoping this would have the desired effect of letting the captain drop back into his chambers. (it did) at this exact moment, i notice a moderately attractive, 45-ish, older joey lauren adamsesque woman standing across from me, who looked me dead in the eye, then down, then back at the eyes, smirked, and said...

"eh, taming the ole monster there, huh??"

...as i stood there utterly speechless, letting out a smile and weak laugh but wondering "WHAT THE EFF MADE HER THINK IT WAS OKAY TO SAY THAT TO A STRANGER, IN PUBLIC???", "HOW THE HELL DOES SHE EXPECT ME TO RESPOND???", and "WHY THE HELL AM I STILL SMILING???"

she was in front of me in line, and after she paid for her salad, she turned and said "take care of yourself" before she left. i responded "you too" and continued to wonder whether or not someone taped a sign to my back saying "please compliment the mandingo"

12:00ish

i finally make my way to the sushi boat, where my fruit cup will go greatly as a dessert of sorts with the shrimp fried rice they make. usually i order stuff from here to go, but since i had a while before i was due at work, i decided to stay and eat upstairs.

the place was crowded and only a couple tables were available, so i picked up a spoon and a napkin and took the one nearest the exit. a couple minutes later a waiter brought me my dish, and i began to dig into the rice and shrimp while listening to the gza on my ipod. after a couple moments i start to look around just to be safe because wearing an ipod sometimes makes you unmindful of your surroundings. right at that moment it hit me...

...out of 20 some people in there, all either white or asian, i was the only one using a freakin spoon. everyone else had chopsticks, and were eating intricate shit like fried noodles and octopuss and shit, and here my black ass was, scooping rice and shrimp with a giant spoon like a circus monkey. after a couple more moments, i became convinced that they were all watching me eat and recording it on their phones, and i'd show up tommorrow on some youtube video short titled "nigger soup"

it became too much for me to deal with, so i packed up my half eaten food in a styrofoam case and left, finishing my spoonfed rice and shrimp in the lonely shameful solitude of a computer lab at work.

so, to summarize, in less than four hours i was notified of another senseless murder involving a young person i know, sexually harassed by glenn close while buying three dollar pineapples and watermelon, and shamed out of a restaurant where half the customers dont even speak english.

...and ya'll still wonder why we're angry

happy trails
987-986

"chivalry is dead...and ya'll stank hoes killed him"

this quote, spoken by one of the champs 12th graders a year and a half ago (lol, right before i relunctantly kicked him out of class.) during an intense othello debate that segued into a discourse about traditional male and female roles, accurately describes how seemingly most of us (men and women) feel about general ground rules (or lack thereof) concerning male and female interaction. for most of us, chivalry died years ago, neglected so long by trifin n-words and evil bitches that it ended up emaciated and barely recognizable, starving to death outside of a kfc because no one could spare him the big piece of chicken.

well, the champ is here to say that we're wrong, chivalry isn't dead or even dying...just in need of a bit of a makeover. an update. a reboot. a few minor tweaks and adjustments to help it combat the evil bitches and trifin n-words attempting to eradicate it

without further ado, heres the champs five step guide to 21st century chivalry...what it entails and encompasses and how to make sure it always gets that chicken (double entendre intended)

1. when approaching a door with a woman (age or relation doesnt matter), you must always attempt to open it and let her walk through first, even if you're coming from an awkward angle...

this is pretty non-negotiable. any man that doesnt open doors for women or wait as a human doorstop for a woman thats less than five seconds away from the door is, to be blunt, not a man. sure, there are extentuating circumstances (you have crutches, you really, really have to pee, etc) but this is one of the three rules that will never change. plus, theres no better way of getting a really, really good clear ass peek...women always seem to jiggle the hips a little extra whenever a door's being held open for them. i think its some form of a primative mating mechanism, a correlation between held doors, jiggled hips, and ovaries, but i really have no idea. if i had the time and the proper funding, i'd go around the country and do studies on shit like this. also, if you happen to come across some feminazi who feels as if holding a door is a symptom of 6000 years of male supremacy and semen swallowing, do shrug your shoulders, give her the "oh well" smirking grimace, and continue to hold the door. dont pat her on the head or the ass when she walks by.

also, even though you're not holding the door just so the woman can say "thanks" or smile, you do reserve the right to mutter "bitch" under your breath if the act isnt acknowledged at all.

theres really only one instance where you probably shouldnt open the door for a woman, and that's when she's with another man who looks as if it might be HER man. door opening now is a no-no because it basically shows the other man up. you dont want to cause some poor stranger any unneccesary anguish...he doesnt need to hear "what, some stranger can open the door for me and your lazy ass cant??? maybe i should have blown HIM in the car this morning instead of you!!!" when he gets home. remember fellas, happy woman means happy man, and happy men means no crime.

2. always let women within 10 feet of you go first in elevators, buses, cabs, etc, etc

this one is a bit tricky actually, because it can produce the very common condition known as "asshole-assbusdriveritis". this happens when a man, who's closer to a bus door than a woman is, hesistates...a sign letting the woman know she can go on first. the woman, used to years of emaciated chivarly, isn't expecting this, so she isnt even paying attention. you both end up just standing there for a moment, and sometimes that one second pause is all the justification the asshole-ass bus driver needs to close the door and speed off. for those who believe i'm making this up, it's happened to me at least twice in the last month.

now, if the woman is more than 10 feet away, then yeah...its probably best that you just get on. waiting then just becomes some awkward ass ropeless russian double dutch game with you waiting to jump in.

this is also a great time to watch ass. nothing beats watching a nice ass walk up a few city bus stairs. i'm actually beginning to think that chivalry is just a convoluted system devised for men to look at as much ass as possible. those damn knights and maidens were a bunch of freaks. no wonder cats like caligula and chaucer got so much ass.

3. if on a crowded bus or train, you must give up your seat to elderly men and most women...on one condition...

...there are no reasonably available seats in front of you. now, by "reasonably available" i mean, of course the vacant seat with the booger or next to the naked crackhead or underneath the dripping window doesnt count, but you're not obligated to get up if theres a couple clean seats in front of you. if not, dont even make a big deal out of it, just stand and head to the back. I've even begun doing the pre-emptive stand, where you don't even bother to sit down if a seats available on a crowded bus because you know you'll be giving it up soon anyway

also, you may have noticed that i said "most" women. this is not a mistake. "all" women dont qualify. basically, if they look to be under 19 years old, and theyre not carrying 60 pounds worth of shit...then their ass can stand, lol. i'm sorry, but after 8 hours of work i'm not giving up my seat to some 16 year old phat farm rockin hoochie squealing about weave and chris brown on her "squwaky" (the common ghetto term for one of those annoying ass walkie-talkie nextels, for those not well-versed in hoodspeak)

4. you can never have too many "pleases' and "thank yous"...except in the bedroom, where they should be strickly forbidden.

the bedroom in itself is a paradox where the common rules of chivalry dont exist. for instance, theres absolutely no circumstance where you should ever say "please" because "please" accompanies a request...and you should never, ever, ever, ever request anything. ever. a slight nudge or forceful movement of certain body parts is all thats needed to get your point across, whatever it happens to be. never ask. if theres something you're not particularly sure about (head, intensity of ass-smackage, etc, etc) either just do it and gauge the reaction (not the safest option), or just dont do it and bring the subject up another time, when you're NOT in the bedroom (the safest option)

also, regardless of how great anything was, never say thank you. she gave you great brains and rode you into submission like seattle slew, she didnt make you a cheese sandwich or iron a dress shirt...saying thank you completely removes the intimacy, making your bedroom as unchivalrous as possible. shit, if you're gonna say thank you you might as well just pull a ja rule and "bounce and leave a hundred/ makin em feel slutted even if they don't want it"

lastly...

5. ....regarding all of these rules: dont discriminate

dont bullshit chivalry. dont break your neck to open doors for every esther baxter you see but refuse to give up your seat for the slightly homely chick on the train carrying 90 books. on the flip side, dont intentionally dismiss and ignore attractive chicks in this regard because your no-booty getting ass thinks they look "stuck up". unless theyre excessively outwardly rude or you happen to overhear a d4l track in their ipods, treat everybody exactly the same.

now ladies, even though this list was directed towards the men, there are certain things you can do to keep chivalry full of chicken, none of them more important than always acknowledging the act. it could be a smile or a "thank you" or a slight head nod or an "accidental" cleavage peak...anything as long as it lets the guy know that his efforts havent been in vain. also, just as guys arent supposed to only be chivalrous towards attractive women, dont only acknowledge the act if its someone who you can imagine bedding...and dont assume that just because an attractive dude is opening a door for you that hes trying to fuck you. sure, he's considering it, lol...but thats probably not the intent.

there you have it. five simple steps. now everybody, go out and make the champ proud.

happy trails
987-986

may 8, 2002

it just finally hit me that my real college days (sleeping in, partying every weekend, basketball groupies, ramen noodles, free haircuts etc...) are...sniff, sniff, over. am i ready for real life, paying bills and buying food when everything has been free for 23 years? i guess i have to be...they dont have any post-graduate halfway houses...

i remember sitting at my monitor for like 20 minutes staring at the screen before this entry because i had no idea what to type. my cousin first brought up the website idea to me as a place to archive my poetry...but i had no effing idea about this blog business. i never was the diary type, and i couldnt fathom that complete strangers would give two shits about my incessant quirks and ambitious attempts at something resembling wittiness...especially since most of my friends had already grown tired of my schtick and spontaneous unprompted 5 minute long spiels about mac and cheese or "comeback coochie" or whichever other odd topic happened to catch my fancy at the moment. one friend even said, after i told her that i was starting some online journal, "hasn't that brain of yours caused enough suffering??". now that i think about it, i probably should have tried to bone her that last week up at school just for gp. exorcising the ole demon and shit.

may 9, 2003

...maybe its some type of college student withdrawal, but seeing a chick with sweats and a jean jacket and an atache' and glasses and a baseball cap is sexy as hell to me...

this is still true, yanno. when ranking sexy outfits, this is actually in my top five...not as high as "walking around your crib wearing one of your dress shirts with nothing underneath", but very close to "form fitting pants suit and appropiate heel"

may 7th, 2004

I was a grad student my last year at canisius....I was granted an extra year on scholarship because of a knee injury after my freshman year...now, you'd think there'd a gulf between me and say, an 18 year old freshman, but the dynamics of our team weren't like that...actually, during that last year one of my best friends on the team WAS a freshman....a kid from boston....I remember he used to always make fun of my pittsburgh accent (to this day I swear that I DO NOT have an accent....just everyone else...lol)....apparently I say long fives...okay, that didn't make much sense...when I say the number "5", I guess I add a couple half seconds to my pronounciation...lol....he did this impersonation of me counting that used to have me in tears everytime...("one, two, three, four, FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE, six, seven, eight, NIIIIIIIINE, ten")....trust me, its much funnier read aloud....we also had a mini crush on the same girl, who actually ended up being his girlfriend over the next summer

I've written and deleted about 4 sentences in the last 15 mintues, all of them trying to express the myraid of emotions and depth of sadness I feel right now...I know its a cliche to speak nothing but praise about the deceased, but richard was a fucking great human being, and it hurts, angers, and fucking scares me that he's gone right now...dying doing something he loved and did everyday

people who lived during the 60's always say that they remember exactly where they were when they first heard that jfk and mlk were assisinated. those events left such an indelible mark on their psyches that everything from the moment, down to the exact time and temperature, is etched into their brains forever. for me, personally, although i've witnessed tragedies such as 9/11 and katrina basically right in front of my eyes, nothing i've experienced hit me with that same intial joyless resonance like that day, when finding out my friend had died. it literally felt like somebody dropped a 500 pound weight on my chest, and i almost felt completely out of my chair.

i was also deep in a.n.d.y.itis then, and, since nicole was a couple computers down from me in the lab at that time, i remember thinking if she had ever seen me cry...and wondering how she'd react to it if i did.

reading this again makes me wonder whether or not i should make any edits to fallen. i still dont like the way it ended...but i guess thats fitting, considering the circumstance

may 10, 2005

This is the 6th time I've found out about someone stealing a poem or an entry from me, and the motivation behind such an act puzzles the hell out of me. Whats the point? Shit, I could even understand if they were somehow making money off of it, but just to do it for the sake of doing it seems mindlessly self defeating. If you do actually happen to achieve some level of popularity from stealing others work, you will eventually get found out, lame-brained muthafuckas. Because I'm a nice guy, I'm going to grant his wish and give him a bit more attention...

He goes by the name of ablackforce and also has a personal site here. Apparently he has a history of fabricating shit. He's erased all the evidence for now, but, by the looks of things, he's still a flaming twat. Why is this all hilarious to me? Should I be more upset?

wow, lol. i had no idea until now that this shit happened basically exact a year before mr. power-u stole that shit from me. what is it with net thieves and the beginning of may??? what is it about the spring air, and baseball season, and thunderstorms, and the apperance of newly minted snizzle back fat that makes these malodorous maricon muthafuckas all of a sudden wanna steal my shit? nevermind. dont answer that. i just have one message for all aspiring word thieves out there...

may 12, 2006

i'm a year away from getting my master's and i still dont know what the fuck i wanna do for the next half-century

damn...i wrote that four years ago. i guess you could look at that and say that nothing has really changed, that i'm basically the same permanently limboed cat i was in 2002, but thats a great thing about having a blog...its a permanent ledger of a bunch of temporary thoughts, eventually adding up to some form of evolution. because of this shit, i can know exactly what i was doing on march 24, 2004, have a clear rememberance of what actually happened with sasha at caribana four years ago, and why middle aged black men in kimonos frighten me.

i guess you can call that evolution...or something. who knows...hopefully i'm still around four years from now, still chronicling the answerless quest (although i'd be a bit pissed at my self if i were still here doing this, lol)

happy trails
987-986

why does a little, teeny, weeny part of me feel a little bit bad for what happened to mr. power-u yesterday? like, i can almost imagine him sitting in a dark bedroom yesterday, tearing the stickers off of all his fitteds and smashing his monitor repeatedly with a grey wiffle ball bat while drinking thunderbolt and fighting back tears. i'd probably feel worse if i wasnt an asshole

(...also, is it ever acceptable for a grown-ass 27 year old man with multiple tattoos and a degrees to type "teeny, weeny" under any circumstances? you know what, dont even answer that one. just pretend i never even typed it)

am i the only one who feels like one of those mtv sweet sixteen scamps when deciding which songs to put in my ipod? since space is limited and shit (only 240 songs) there are certain ones that just dont make the cut, and i'm almost ashamed to admit that i've felt some type of borderline psychotic thrill in deciding which ones get to stay inside of condi (no double entendre intended). sometimes i'll even voice my reasons aloud, sitting next to my comp and shaking my head while saying shit like "yeah, method man, i'm sorry i dont have any space for you...maybe next time you won't release the worst group of solo albums out of all the wu members. i'm sure redman has space for you...somewhere" (double entendre definitely intended)

speaking of mtv, am i the only one slightly angered that janelle from the real world hasnt played a more prominent role this season? i havent been keeping on with this season, but thats mainly because of the fact that whenever i happen to turn it on, shes not on screen. can somebody change this? (even though the jury's still out on whether or not she has foobs) we have one of the top five best-looking reality tv chicks ever, and she's getting less screentime than sam jackson in true romance. i'm a simple guy. i dont ask for much. i like my juice chilled, my jeans faded, my bedsheets black, my bread soft, and my tv filled with eye candy as much as possible. i dont even need no big piece of chicken. gimme a wing and a milkshake and an occasional cutie with camel-toe to glaze at and i'm good. is that too much to ask?

after hearing his latest track "gorilla", where he sings and makes, you guessed it, GORILLA NOISES in the background, is it safe to say now without prejudice that the r-uh is completely, irrevocably, undeniably insane? in my mind he has completely passed o.j., m.j., tom cruise, courtney love, mike tyson, e-40, and aretha's breasts on the celeb-o-meter of insanity. there's literally nothing you can tell me about the r-uh that would surprise me anymore. seriously, if somebody emailed me next month like, "yo, you hear that new r. kelly acapella shit where its just him humming "rosebud" over and over again while dolphins are boning in the background? that shit is hot as fuck!!! hes a genius" i wouldnt even bat an eye. honestly, at this point i'm not even sure if i want him to go to prison anymore...hes too important for columnists and bloggers everywhere, 180 pounds of comedic, historic, and pedophiliac gold that we'll all definitely be telling our kids and grandkids about...even if we wouldnt let him within 500 yards of them

can anybody reasonably explain to me why castlestudio, the home of that illogical tired black man skit i wrote about a month ago, has me linked, basically sandwiched right inbetween links such as "why i sold out" and "black women still smell like catfish"? should i be pleased about the free linkage or pissed that a casual visitor not familiar with the champ will see that page and assume i'm just another black woman hating, lowest possible denominator scapegoating black man?

is there any way of finding out whether or not pittsburgh is the nations leader in able-bodied, non-black, four year olds still being pushed around in a stroller? honestly, this shit is an epidemic here. i seriously think we have the laziest parents and toddlers on the planet. i could have swore the other day i saw a kid (with a fuckin mini-goatee) run from the supermarket bathroom then jump into his stroller feet first like the last dude in a dormroom "train" while his mother was waiting in line. if i see one more kid with size 6 shaq shoes dragging on the pavement right next to the freakin wheels i'm a...you know what, nevermind...i'm getting too upset about this...on to the next question

am i ready to get back on the horse? as recent as last week i was still writing about how i'll probably wait until 2009 before i start indiscriminately courting and boning again, but a couple very troubling, yet enlightening recent events have forced me to re-think this position, pushing the date up by three years, lol. i'm not saying that i'm anywhere near ready or wanting to be in a relationship again, but the guilt i would have felt about approaching some philly in the mall with a big butt and a smile has dissipated like a weak fart in the wind (or, more timely and appropiately, like a nigga named jason c)

happy trails
987-986

*******9:30AM EDIT*******
*******9:30AM EDIT*******
*******9:30AM EDIT*******

apparently, jason c, aka "mr. power-u", has taken down his site. i'd feel like chicken little right now if not for the fact that somebody he knows has already left a comment, stating "I'm ashamed to admit that I work with this person and had no idea. I'm stunned and sick to my stomach over here at work and don't know how to approach him".

also, here are a couple files i saved to my hardrive last night, showing the thievery...
jason one
jason two
jason three

...as well as a microsoft work link where i cut and pasted his entire front page

jason again. stupid ass

i'd almost feel bad about all of this if his ass wasnt fucking 30 YEARS OLD!!!!

almost

*******END OF EDIT*******
*******END OF EDIT*******
*******END OF EDIT*******

exhibit a:name:

jason c, aka bitch-ass cocksucking yahoo nigga, aka sandra bernhard, aka, "mr. power-u", aka, "30 year old cornball who still wears stickers on his fitteds", aka vito spatafore/johnny cakes, aka "the nigga with the fake tims" raekwon was talking about on the skit before "hollow bones" on the w

place of residence:

not exactly sure, but mostly likely residing somewhere in the asscrack or on the outer region of the nutsack of any one of several popular black male bloggers. now that i think about it, yesterday while watching the cavs get their asses busted by the pistons, my nuts started itching a bit. at the time i thought it probably just was the new detergent i'm using for my drawers reacting funny, but now i'm most certain it was probably him chillin there scratching away, anxiously waiting for a drop of urine or semen residue.

bitch

scene of crime:

http://blog.360.yahoo.com

actual crime:

stealing ENTIRE blog entries from the champ as well as from panama (and panama also informed me that he may have stolen from leon from listentoleon.blogspot.com and the bruthacode). he also deserves special mention for blantantly stealing shit from four people who, combined, probably average at least a couple thousand unique visitors per day. this shows a special milquetoastness and utter witlessness that isnt grown on trees...especially since he's fucking 30!!! a unique level of gutlessness and sheer bitchniggerey that has probably been cultivated over an extended period of time, most likely beginning during a trip to one of his mother's "johns" when he was younger, where sexual favors were exchanged for an pack of kools, a half empty bottle of bosco, and red and black halter top with "dr. pepper" written on it in white letters.

(also, here are the exact links to the original entries he stole from me with "his" links right underneath just in case any sycophants from his site say or think some "but, how do you know this "damon" dude didnt steal the entries first" bullshit. these were easy to find actually, especially since this numb-headed power-u ass nigga didnt even change the entry titles. ive also saved his site to my hardrive, just in case it somehow comes up "missing" monday afternoon. he must not know that i have some csi-ass muthafuckers in my corner and my family, suffering from the 1/3 life crisis and anxious to put bitch niggas on blast.

platonic friends and the asshole pragmatist
(the bitch nigga's link)

r-e-s-p-e-c-t (when the big piece of chicken aint enough)
(the bitch nigga's link)

black men cant win
(the bitch nigga's link)

things i learned last week
(the bitch nigga's link)

more questions and shit
(the bitch nigga's link)

the gift and the curse
(the bitch nigga's link)

after the barbershop
(the bitch nigga's link)
*i'll give him some credit, this one probably actually took some effort for him to find and steal, being that its almost three years old. see, even the biggest pile of shit has at least one peanut in it*)

first witness:

carmkizzle, who actually has let me know that she's also avaliable to testify and "out his bitch ass" if neccesary.

thoughts from a couple victims, and their families and friends:

*fuck!!! i had three aim convo's going about this subject that i was going to cut and paste and post here, but i accidently erased all of them. is that irony?...having someone steal your shit by cut and paste, but not being able to clown him as much as you want to because you fucked up the cut and paste process? damn, i dont know. jason, since you're such a big fan of mine and i'm sure you've read my irony post before, do you have any thoughts, cocksucker? or should i have screamed that question, just in case your head was stuck in someones sphincter and couldnt hear?*

the punishment:

not sure about this yet...any ideas??? this is, by my count, the 6th time something like this has happened to the champ and shit, and i'm running out of ideas.

happy trails
987-986

in the past week or so, ive encountered a couple blog entries revolving around the whole "can men and women be platonic friends" question. the entries themselves varied, one (from kimbo) stating "Man up! Befriend a woman! You might like it" and another (from the philly) just bluntly proclaiming "I don’t think that men and women can be friends". as usual, the champ has decided to weigh in on this issue, offering his take as well as happily jumping at the opportunity to showcase his dormant math skills and rapist wit.

first, we need to find the true definition of both "friend" and "platonic"...or at least a couple working definitions that we can always refer to.

a friend is, quite simply, a person who one knows, likes, and trusts...and its reciprocal (i'd also like to add that they should be able to willingly tolerate each other for long periods of time...at least 20% percent of your free time). if a person doesnt fit each of these qualifications, then they're not a friend. very simple.

platonic means, transcending physical desire and tending toward the purely spiritual or ideal...again, another definition provided by dictionary.com that i'm in complete agreeance with.

now, both of these are important because the definitions themselves actually help to explain why like-aged men and women can never be strickly platonic close friends

with two very notable exceptions (that i'll speak about later) like-aged men and women dont just meet each other in situations where physical desire is transcended. we dont actively seek friends of the opposite sex, especially not ones who are close to our age. we're just not built that way. someone (usually the male) has to make the first move, and 99% of the time, when we do a cold approach on a woman we dont know, friendship is about the last thing on our minds, like 76 spots below "looks like possible dsl's" and "is that a thong?". a friendship may happen, but it definitely wasnt no fucking plan, and since thats the case, it would be disingenuous to call it "platonic"

plus, you have to figure in "the champ's law of averages and percentages", which states that if you spend more than 20% of your free time with someone of the opposite sex willingly, theres at least a 50% chance that at least one of you will develop sexual feelings...or already has developed them but fears that they would be unrequited. the higher the percentage of free time, the higher the chance. the equation is x(time percentage)* 2.5 = y(chance percentage). according to the equation, if you spend anywhere over 40 percent of your free time with someone, then theres anywhere from a 100 to 250 percent chance that someone wants to bone somebody. its science. its been proven. dont dispute me.

theres also two very, very, very wrong fallacies about platonic relationships floating around out there, and the champ wants to take this time to debunk the two, in question form

"what if a guy just isnt attracted to a girl at all? cant they be friends then? i mean, i'm sure every guy out there doesnt want to get me into bed

this question shows that the questioner fails to comprehend one of the first general rules you need to know about us: ("us" being men) generally, we are very, very, very, very shallow. you'd all be very wise to never underestimate the sheer weight of our shallowness. this is important to know because it helps you understand the fact that no man is going to willingly spend a good amount of his free time with a like-aged woman that he is completely unattracted to. it will never happen. sorry ladies, but every male "friend" that you have would bed you if the time and opportunity was right. i'm not saying that they want to...but, you best believe that they've considered it. since that "consideration" doesnt exactly mesh with that "transcend physical desire" shit, then theyre not really platonic. oh, and ladies, dont act surprised after reading this because just how we (men) have to find something remotely attractive about you all to willingly spend free time, women dont want to be bothered with straight men who find them (not women in general...just you in particular) completely replusive. all that bullshit you talk about wanting to find a straight male friend who harbors absolutely no physical interest or attraction for you is just that...bullshit. trust me, you all arent built for that. i'd show another one of my equations here, but i think you all still need a bit more time to digest the first one.

"how about if we're both in committed relationships, completely faithful to our significant others, and just enjoying each others friendship? that cant work?"

no...but its not so much that "it can't work" as much as it is that "it will never, ever, ever happen". since we've already established that men dont seek unattractive female friends while they're single, the only way two people in seperate romantic relationships can become truly platonic friends would be if they happened to first meet each other after they both were already in the relationship, an impossibility due to the fact that no man or woman i know is going to be okay with their significant other making new friends of the opposite sex. i dont care how open-minded or trust worthy they might be...its just one of those things you have to accept is never going to happen, like a japanese chick with a fat ass or the r-uh going to prison.

earlier in the entry, i did mention two exceptions to this rule, two instances were it is possible to create, cultivate, and continue a truly platonic relationship, with the first one being...

...a college campus

this works for one reason. if you're living on or around campus, theres literally thousands of like aged people of the opposite sex leaving within a 10 block radius of you. you're going to see literally hundreds, even thousands of the same people over and over and over and over again for a two to six year period, in class, on the shuttle, in the cafe, in the dorm...and you cant help but make some real friends after that much close contact. true homeboys and ride or die chicks who would think it was incestuous to even consider sleeping with you. if you're not sure if your "college buddy" qualifies as being truly platonic, ask yourself two questions.

one, was a lonely saturday night watching "love jones" or "chasing amy" together with a bottle of jack the only thing seperating "friend/play sibling" from "the beast with two backs"?...and two, did you purposely avoid those type of situations with your "friend" because of what might have happened if you didnt?

if you answered "yes" to either of those, then, well...i dont know what to tell you.

the only other place where a truly platonic relationship can occur is online...people you've met through blogs or message boards or any other online mass communicating medium that attracts like-aged and minded people. being online gives you a veil of security, a pre-screening process where physical and sexual attributes regularly dont come into play, a place where you might not even really, really know someone...but still consider them to be a good friend. personally, every female in the world who i would consider to be a close, strickly (in the truest sense of the term) platonic friend, can be found in my links section. im still not sure whether or not thats a good thing

i tried the very, very, very close strickly platonic friend thing once...a failed experiment which ended up involving caught feelings, nasty emails, and a 69 on a staircase. i'm not saying it can never happen, but...wait...yes i am. it can never happen. sorry kimbo

happy trails
987-986