WHEN NO ONE'S LOOKIN'

I'm a grown ass man; a responsible one for that matter and I know y'all can tell even though there may be one or two folks who won’t mind throwin' dirt on that claim... ok ok, maybe am half irresponsible but I swear, am working on it. Anyways, I do what grown asses do, well at least, most of it and a lot more that a grown man shouldn't be caught dead doin'.

Am thirty some' years old... oh, you're shocked? Did you just go check my pictures again tryna connect my Facebook/ Twitter tantrums with this new revelation? Did your head just nod on its own accord? Well, it's okay, you can now pick your jaws from the floor! If it's any consolation, you'd be surprised to know that am as shocked as you because I feel like that nigga Jigga (the thick-lipped rap mogul)... am forever young, dammit!

I hate not being able to do what the fuck I wanna do, I mean, am not rich yet like most of my friends *checks watch…quarter to rich O’clock, it says... shakes head*, so the least a grown ass dawg like me can do is have one or two or more carry-over childish vices he can secretly indulge in.

Here are some of my childhood deeds carried-over to adulthood... plus some of the new shenanigans I get up to when nobody’s looking.

I love to scrape pots... yeeea men *in Usher’s voice*. I love it when that sweet pot of rice is nicely burnt, leavin' them grains brown and yummy. I just take my shirt off, lock that pot between my thighs and get lost in the "scrapeture". Can't blame a brotha, can you? What with all that ingredients chilling down there. No wonder that African proverb says, “The bottom of the pot is the sweetest”. I know some of y'all have done it before and those who haven't, you should do it sometime.

I’m so freakin' sure this next one is an original. A never-before-seen or done-type of shit as far as am concerned, that is. Oh oh I think I deserve an award for this one (y'all can decide the type of award... ingenuity or absurdity?). I use my phone a lot, right? Me and my insomniac ass posted up on Facebook all day and all night. Only hell gets hotter than that piece of gadget and what'd I do whenever I want to give it alil rest? I put the poor thing in the fridge... you want me to write that again? I refrigerate the damn thing! It's crazy, I know but ay, a brotha’s gotta do what a brotha’s gotta do.

Whenever I go to a new place where English is not the main language, I like to make-pretend like I understand what the fuck they are saying. I just nod, smile, shrug or mumble, timing my response with the body language of whoever's talking to me. Why'd I do that, you say? Well, I do it just for the heck of it; it's a little game I enjoy playing just to see how far I can fool the speaker! My boy BJ and Barry know what am talking about... BJ, especially love to see me do my thing.

When am alone or when I think no one's got me in their sight, I turn Miner! I take my sweet little time to mine those gooey stuffs from my nose... yeah! Cast the first stone if you ain't guilty. Go ahead, what? You can't do it? Yea, I thought so.



Oh I love this one…growing up with my Granny, I was taught to always eat my meat or fish last. She would tell me only lions and greedy folks eat their meat first. Guess what? I still do that till today even though I had a somewhat painful experience with that practice once. One night, as a little country boy, after having my dinner (outside, of course), with my plate shining and shit after performing that little art of licking, my lil’ country ass place the fish in another plate while trying to wash my plate facing another direction. Done with the small matter of plate-washing, I reached out for my fish…it was gone. The damn fried fish had swum away on dry land! The culprit, a damn mongrel…the mutherfucking canine was licking its mouth not far from me. Fuck what Mrs. Elton John sang about not looking back in anger…the next day; I nearly killed the damn dog!

Did you just say, what about wet dreams?
Here’s my reply to your thought, "Yeah, why don’t you tell me?"