If You Put Your Trust In STATISTICS, You'll Pro'ly Won't Believe In MIRACLES

Dobs' LOST DAYS SERIES (Shenanigans from FB)

Days When Boys Make Cassettes For Girls...Cassettes Containin' Songs That Contains Shit They'd Like To Say But Couldn't... badlydrawndobs.com Simple times

Days When We Used To Record Our Mixes From Radio And Them On-Air-Personalities/DJs Try To Mess The Recordin' Up By Talkin' or Playin' Their Jingles In The Middle Of The Song!Days When There Were No Cellphones (jus landlines and only very very few folks got 'em) And You Actually Have To Go Hang Around A Girl's Crib Waitin' For When She'll Be Sent Out To Buy Somethin'

Days When There Were Jus Landlines And When You Pick A Call You Couldn't Lie That You Weren't Home...but now wit cellphones, folks lie bout their whereabout.

Days When Rice & Chicken Were Christmas Specials.

HOW JOHN MET HER MAJESTY, THE QUEEN

Monday
November 19
11:09

You can look me in my face (I ain’t got no worries) x3
See the sh-rooms keep me up (I ain’t got no worries) x3

I don’t like this song but somehow I found myself repeatin’ this hook in my head as I got dressed and ready to get to out the crib. As if the DJ on the station I was tuned-in to read my thoughts, he puts the song on! I got real worries but for some reason this Lil Wayne song jus wouldn’t leave me alone. I flipped the station to the good old’ BBC and I heard an interestin’ story about a boy. The story held me down for the next five minute…

STRONG MEN

Monday

05 November

*singing*

L’ojo Monday Eko Oni Gba Gba Ku’gba

Umm, have I talked about this song before in one of my posts? I’m sure I have but hey, I had to bring it back ‘cause I got another curious yarn to spin about the most hated day of the week. And nope, I can’t promise the song won’t pop up again somewhere down my future posts. There’s no way I’m gon’ talk about Monday without bringin’ this classic by the late afro beat legend Fela Anikulapo Kuti into the convo. Can I say somethin’ profound real quick? Fela never sung a bad song. No lie!

What!

You don’t know who Fela is/was? Get on Google or Wikipedia and educate your ass… do it quick! That nigga is in the same class as the jazz greats: Louis “Satchmo” Armstrong, Miles Davis, Duke Ellington, John Coltrane and the others. Please don’t turn up your snotty nose and say, “why is this nigga blaspheming?” Oh, you said that in your head already! Ok. Lol!

L’ojo Monday Eko Oni Gba Gba Ku’gba (On Monday morning, Lagos (Nigeria) takes no shit from nobody)

That right there was the mentality I grew up with and I can confidently say the same for all the people on my block. On Monday mornings, we don’t play. We don’t want nobody “monkeying” around and put the hex on the rest of the week for us. We believe the way you start the week is likely how you gon’ end it. I know some folks might say it’s superstitious but fuck it, it is what it is.

09:25

Don’t you jus’ hate when a street hustler steps up to you (unsolicited) and try to sweet talk you or even sometime try somethin’ close to manhandlin’ you into makin’ a buy of whatever it is he or she (usually he) is sellin’? don’t you jus’ hate!

Monday morning, my spirit was sky high, no Monday blues like most folks. I had black pants on my ass and a sky blue long-sleeved shirt on my back. My afro was oiled and combed, and my craggy beard was, well, still a little bit craggy. I walked down the central business district swingin’ (if you got Papa Roach’s ”Still Swinging” playin’ in my head you’d be swingin’ too). In that moment, I was oblivious to the pain in the world, I was happy as a dick gettin’ waxed by Megan Good’s lips but all that was brought to an untimely end when some guy stepped alongside me wit’ a package of bottles in his hand, I took one look and I knew exactly what they were…

Between 09:50 and 10:38

Yeah, you’re pro’ly sayin’ there is really nothin’ strange about the incident I jus’ recounted, well I thought the same thing, matter of fact, I chucked it down to a random act by the universe but wait a second cause things weirder and weirder. And what would you know, the same shit happened again and again… two other hustlers tried to sell me the same damn stuffs the first hustler tried to sell me, all within the space of one hour!

I kept thinkin’ to myself, don’t these niggas know it’s too damn early in the day to be tryin’ to sell a nigga these stuff, I mean, I smell good for God’s sakes. The more I tried to get away from these guys by gettin’ my Johnny Walker on the more they kept comin’ at me proclaimin’ how long lasting their goods were.

Strong Men, 7 Hours, Big Boy & Other Packaged Stuffs

Nope! Strong Men, 7 Hours, Big Boy and others aren’t the names of exotic perfumes; they are all herbal equivalent of Viagra! What coulda given me away? Was it my walk or my craggy beard? May be I had a sign on my forehead sayin’ “here goes an aspirin’ porn star who couldn’t get it up or something?”

 

Outro

Tuesday

06 November

11:22

Up until the moment am penning down this entry, there’s been nothin’ to suggest that Monday would repeat itself on a Tuesday but then again, it’s still too early in the day or week to say, right?

 

 

 

I DO

Saturday
27 October, 2012
12:05

Wedding Day
“If any among you here today have any genuine reason why these two should not be joined together as man and wife, say it now or forever hold your mutherfuckin’ peace,” the pastor’s voice boomed across the small church.

Oh, did the pastor really say that?

The answer to that is hell yeah! Every word in that sentence was the pastor’s except for a very tiny part. And what part would that be? I think y’all already mutherfuckin’ know... I snuck that one tiny bit in there for emphasis. Ah ha!

Anyways, up until the moment the pastor spoke those famous words, I had been driftin’ in and out of naps and daydreams, I bolted upright like a sleepwalker who’s just been caught standin’ butt naked in the neighbor’s front porch and the very beautiful Miss Jones had jus’ smacked him across the face to shake some wakefulness into that ass! I came alive. I kinda had a feelin’ that some sort of drama was goin’ to go down.

I’ve heard of weddings where all kinds of people (people in this case would be, women, mostly women scorned) stepped out of the woodworks to throw spanners into whatever productions was goin’ on. Am I being politically incorrect by sayin’ women would rather disrupt a weddin’ than “forever hold their peace?” Maybe I am but I can honestly say I’ve never heard of a situation where a jilted man stooped that low. If somebody decided to get married to somebody else instead of you, what they unwittingly did was to save your ass from future sorrow, jus’ fuckin’ breathe and let that shit go! Hmmm, am beginnin’ to sound like that nigga Dr. Phil, aren’t I?

12:05:56
The silence in the church had that graveyard eeriness to it, every small moment was amplified. I shifted very slowly in my seat, all too aware of the look an exaggerated movement might earn me from fams and friends of the bride and groom. From my position in the back of the church, I craned my neck, tryin’ to see if my nigga, the groom, was sweatin’ bullets but all I was able see was his white suited shoulders and the back of his well-oiled black scull.

I sat there wonderin’ what was goin’ through the couples’ (especially the groom) mind. Now am not sayin’ my boy was a playa but I was damn sure the ghosts of girlfriends past must have flooded his mind’s eyes.

12:07
Jus’ as the pastor was about to get things goin’, a woman holdin’ a child stood up from somewhere in the navel of the church. Heads swivelled  Eyes bulged as the woman made her way to the aisle!

What! Shit was about to get real and all the stories I’ve heard about scorned women shuttin’ weddings down was about to come to life right in front of my naked eyes!

For a moment almost everybody in the church held their breath and you could hear one huge hum as folks collectively exhaled as the woman turned left and headed for the back exit door to breastfeed her baby.

12:12
With the dotted lines signed, the pastor pronounced the couple man and wife at exactly twelve past midday. And that, ladies and gentlemen was the first weddin’ I ever sat through from start to finish.

Outro
I still haven’t asked what was runnin’ through my nigga’s mind durin’ those few minutes the pastor asked them axe grinders to speak up or forever hold their peace but I promise am gon ask as soon as he turns his phone on... he’s away on honeymoon, by the way.

Happy matrimony to everybody who’s done it and to those plannin’ to get those two words in, watch your back especially if you’ve left a trail of broken marriage proposals in your wake.

TALK BACK

Today
Monday
September 3
11:13
Here's a lil' some' y’all weren’t privileged to, a lil' a convo that went down between me and my friend B a few days back. I've been havin' convos (more like a tiff) like that for sometime now...here’s a lil' snippet.

"You put too much pressure on yourself, men! Carryin’ that darn thing around all day ain’t no joke," B looked at me with pain.

“I know men but you know there are stuffs I need to take to town and shit, can’t leave the bag alone” I said

“C’mon man, be a lil considerate to both of us. It’d help a whole lot more if you leave your laptop at home more often. Some shit can wait, you know? And it ain't like you use it in town all the time. Take some burden off of your ass, nigga” B said. I could sense B was irritated.

“Touché” I whispered. “You know you and me are one, right? We both want the same thing.”

“Fuck that shit! If we both want the same then why do you keep ignorin’ the pain, huh?”

“I understand where you’re comin’ from but try and understand me too,” I said while rubbin’ on B, nothin’ sexual jus a good old friendly rub.

“Get your hands off me punkass! Stop tryna bribe me, nigga. That shit won’t work. All I need you to do is pay attention to all the warnings I’ve been givin’ your ass”

“Ok, give me some time and I’ll find a solution, aight?”

“Good!”

“We cool then, huh?” I asked. B answered with a head nod.

Friday
August 31
Lately I’d been makin’ conscious effort to carry my backpack less and less on my back. Instead of lettin’ it ride on my back all the time like it’s suppose to, I’d started clutchin’ it, jus swingin’ it from left to right as I go through the day.

Huh? But backpacks are made for backs? Yeah yeah, I know they call it backpack for a reason.

10:08
Some skinny jeans wearin’ dude bumped into me... well, not me exactly bump into me but technically, bumpin’ into my bag, which is like an extension of me would amount to bumpin’ into me, wouldn't it or do we need to pull a law book of some sort out on this?

At the moment of impact, I’d jus switched hands from left to right in order to relieve the left of the strain that was beginin’ to be unbearable. Though, it wasn't exactly an earth-shakin’ bumpin’ into but it was a big enough collision for me to turn around and try to get a good look at the person that jus disrespected my world famous backpack. My first reaction was to go after the guy and demand an apology and pro’ly give him a verbal ass whoopin’ if he doesn't act right. I took one look at the guy as he swaggered away and smiled. Why? I mean, dude’s pants hung so low, his drawers seemed to be sayin’ hi to everybody and most off of all, nigga looked like a walkin’ scarecrow.

I admit, one of my flaws is not bein’ able to let a disrespect go, no matter how small, I jus have to call it out right there and then but the good thing is, if I don’t deal wit it right away, I jus let it slide and that was what I did, I let it slide.

Ok, the truth is, I wasn't really worried about the bag at all (if Pro-Specs, the manufacturer of the bag knows that the bag is still in existence, they’d pro’ly be beatin’ a path down to my door to have it in their museum), my concern was for the laptop inside. Imagine if the laptop fell and broke, that would be a disaster of epic proportion, the world as we know it would change forever! *shakes* God forbid!

Outro
If that dude hadn't bumped into my backpack I’d pro’ly wouldn’t be havin’ a rethink or another conversation with B.

Who is B again? Oh, I didn’t tell y’all who B was? My bad!

Umm, B stands for my Back by the way!

Yep! Is that a typo? Nope, it isn't. You read me right.

A convo wit’ ones’ back, who does that! A sane man, that’s who! Some of y’all still can't wrap your heads around it, can ya?

See, on the face value, shit like havin’ a convo wit’ parts of your body might seem like madness to somebody on the outside lookin’ in but it actually helps when you need some kinda resolution... when I say somebody on the outside lookin’ in, am talkin’ bout YOU! Yep, you readin’ this. But then again, somethin’ tells you've had dialogues wit a part of your body before, haven’t you?

Image courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

TALK BACK

Today

Monday

September 3

11:13

Here's a lil' some' y’all weren’t privileged to, a lil' a convo that went down between me and my friend B a few days back. i've been havin' convos (more like a tiff) like that for sometime now...here’s a lil snippet

”You put too much pressure on yourself, men! Carryin’ that darn thing around all day ain’t no joke,” B looked at me with pain

“I know men but you know there are stuffs I need to take to town and shit, can’t leave the bag alone” I said

  “C’mon man, be a lil considerate to both of us. It’d help a whole lot more if you leave your laptop at home more often. Some shit can wait, you know? And it aint like you use it in town all the time. Take some burden off of your ass, nigga” B said. I could sense B was irritated.

“Touché” I whispered. “You know you and me are one, right? We both want the same thing”

“Fuck that shit! If we both want the same then why do you keep ignorin’ the pain, huh?”

“I understand where you’re comin’ from but try and understand me too,” I said while rubbin’ on B, nothin’ sexual jus a good old friendly rub.

“Get your hands off me punkass! Stop tryna bribe me, nigga. That shit won’t work. All I need you to do is pay attention to all the warnings I’ve been givin’ your ass”

“Ok, give me some time and I’ll find a solution, aight?”

“Good!”

“We cool then, huh?” I asked. B answered with a head nod.

Friday

August 31

Lately I’d been makin’ conscious effort to carry my backpack less and less on my back. Instead of lettin’ it ride on my back all the time like it’s suppose to, I’d started clutchin’ it, jus swingin’ it from left to right as I go through the day.

Huh? But backpacks are made for backs?  Yeah yeah, I know they call it backpack for a reason.

10:08

Some skinny jeans wearin’ dude bumped into me…well, not me exactly bump into me but technically, bumpin’ into my bag, which is like an extension of me would amount to bumpin’ into me, wouldn’t it or do we need to pull a law book of some sort out on this?

At the moment of impact, I’d jus switched hands from left to right in order to relieve the left of the strain that was beginin’ to be unbearable. Though, it wasn’t exactly an earth-shakin’ bumpin’ into but it was a big enough collision for me to turn around and try to get a good look at the person that jus disrespected my world famous backpack. My first reaction was to go after the guy and demand an apology and pro’ly give him a verbal ass whoopin’ if he doesn’t act right. I took one look at the guy as he swaggered away and smiled. Why? I mean, dude’s pants hung so low, his drawers seemed to be sayin’ hi to everybody and most off of all, nigga looked like a walkin’ scare crow.

I admit, one of my flaws is not bein’ able to let a disrespect go, no matter how small, I jus have to call it out right there and then but the good thing is, if I don’t deal wit it right away, I jus let it slide and that was what I did, I let it slide.

Ok, the truth is, I wasn’t really worried about the bag at all (if Pro-Specs, the manufacturer of the bag knows that the bag is still in existence, they’d pro’ly be beatin’ a path down to my door to have it in their museum), my concern was for the laptop inside. Imagine if the laptop fell and broke, that would be a disaster of epic proportion, the world as we know it would change forever! *shakes* God forbid!

Outro

If that dude hadn’t bumped into my backpack I’d pro’ly wouldn’t be havin’ a rethink or another conversation with B.

Who is B again? Oh, I didn’t tell y’all who B was? My bad!

Umm, B stands for my Back by the way!

Yep! Is that a typo? Nope, it isn’t.  You read me right.

A convo wit’ ones’ back, who does that! A sane man, that’s who! Some of y’all still cant wrap your heads around it, can ya?

See, on the face value, shit like havin’ a convo wit’ parts of your body might seem like madness to somebody on the outside lookin’ in but it actually helps when you need some kinda resolution…when I say somebody on the outside lookin’ in, am talkin’ bout YOU! Yep, you readin’ this. But then again, somethin’ tells you’ve had dialogues wit a part of your body before, haven’t you?

DON'T LET FOLKS WALK AWAY

DON'T LET FOLKS WALK AWAY FROM YOU INDIFFERENT... GIVE 'EM SOMETHIN' TO FEEL... LOVE, HATE, BUT NEVER INDIFFERENCE.

DON'T LET FOLKS WALK AWAY FROM YOU INDIFFERENT...GIVE 'EM SOMETHIN' TO FEEL...LOVE, HATE BUT NEVER INDIFFERENCE

WHENEVER YOU GET THE FEELIN'

WHENEVER YOU GET THE FEELIN' THAT YOU'VE BEEN SOMEWHERE BEFORE...YOU'RE PRO'LY GOIN' AROUND IN CIRCLES.

WHENEVER YOU GET THE FEELIN' THAT YOU'VE BEEN SOMEWHERE BEFORE...YOU'RE PRO'LY GOIN' AROUND IN CIRCLES

WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IN GOD OR NOT

WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IN GOD OR NOT, SOME DAY WHEN YOUR ASS IS DOWN AND OUT, YOU'LL LOOK UP TO THE HEAVENS, SEARCHIN' AND POSSIBLY BEGGIN' FOR A SIGN.

WHETHER YOU BELIEVE IN GOD OR NOT, SOME DAY WHEN YOUR ASS IS DOWN AND OUT, YOU'LL LOOK UP TO THE HEAVENS, SEARCHIN' AND POSSIBLY BEGGIN' FOR A SIGN

THE BEAT DOWN

21 June
Tuesday
12:10
I looked at the time on my phone again as my piss 'o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, I wasn't supposed to stay more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and countin’.

Jus’ as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’ me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d be composin’ (my songs... all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’ distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself... anyways, if there’s any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!

12:18
Face glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound of your own voice playin’ back to you... that is freakin’ cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’ somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and you’re third in line to the British throne.

I was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my table; I didn't even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’ to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got. Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus' ignore ‘em til they get the message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.

About fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.

12:23
As I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I've never been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.

That shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nanoseconds I thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’ around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive mind, right?

12:26
As the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’ that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’ or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’ the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good look at the situation. As I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veins were poppin’ up on my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he came to a king size bitch slap.

I stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the phone as if it was jus' another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a wrap-around cloth).

The motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged and told myself “good thing I wasn't too hasty at dishin’ out that king-size slap at all”.

I went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’ their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would use such an archaic word. Lol!

A step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward, tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was blamin’ the wife!
For even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife, “You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”

Outro
I know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took. I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!

The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too. They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off. Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.

12:40
I forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the wife beater’s beat-down.

THE BEAT DOWN

21 June

Tuesday

12:10

I looked at the time on my phone again as my piss ‘o meter gradually edged towards highly pissed. I mean, i wasn’t supposed to stay more than five minutes at the bus terminals but the dude I was waitin’ on, had had my ass there for a lil over ten minutes ...and countin’.

Jus’ as I was thinkin’ of ringin’ his ass up again, he called, beggin’ me to be patient and that he’d come through in the next twenty minutes. I know some time I get ticked off quite easily, so I took a deep cleasin’ breath (oh hell, how cleansin’ can the air at a bus station wit close a thousand souls millin’ around be). I try to pass the time by listenin’ to the lil’ recordings of songs I’d be composin’ (my songs…all unfinished). It’s one of my lil’ distractions, kinda connects me wit’ myself...anyways, if there’s any A&R man readin’ this, am the man you need to discover. Lol!

12:18

Face glued to my writin’ pad, head bobbin’ to the sound of my recordings. Call it narcissistic or whatever you want but there’s somethin’ vain-gloriously calmin’ about listenin’ to the sound of your own voice playin’ back to you…that is freakin’ cathartic! Come to think of it, a playback of your ass doin’ somethin’ you wouldn’t want to see the light of day might jus get your blood pressures up especially if your name is Prince Harry and you’re third in line to the British throne.

I was lost in the groove until some peddler came and stood across my table; I didn’t even bother lookin’ at him or what he was tryin’ to sell. I already know how these hustlers operate. They invite themselves into your presence and try to tempt you like the serpent did Eve in the garden a while back. They stand in front of you long enough to get you to give more than a passing look at what they got. Well, I got my own tactic too, I jus ignore ‘em til they get the message and move the hell on and that was exactly what I did.

About fifty seconds later, the hustler was still standin’ there like some sort of stature; the punk ass jus won’t go away like the proverbial coin. I looked up to see what the homeboy was sellin’ and right there in both his hands were a polythene bag full of lipsticks! For the time it took for my face to travel from the bags in hands to his face, my look switched from your pleasant average Joe smile to that no nonsense Danny Trejo look and the motherfucker promptly got the message. He got out of my sight like a house on fire. I mean, what the fuck, do I look like a lipstick wearin’ nigga? Nigga musta been slightly inebriated to wanna sell me shit like that.

12:23

As I watched the lipstick man go, I noticed somethin’ that got me thinkin’ about what upsets a man’s sanity scale. I’ve never been certifiably mad but I know there’s always an event that shifts a man’s balance and tips his ass into insanity, right? Y’all ever notice how mad people are always are on about a particular thing? So there I was lookin’ at an old mad man in a torn hat and an ill-fittin’ ragged suit who kept goin’ from folks to folks (I counted eight) askin’ them for what the time was.

That shit got me wonderin’ that may be the man’s obsession wit time’s got some’ to do wit why he went mad! For a few nano seconds I thought what if the lipstick man was to go mad, would he be goin’ around obsessin’ after lipsticks? Yeah, me and my evil hyperactive mind, right?

12:26

As the old mad hatter moved away from the couple sittin’ on the bench with two other chicks (they had their backs to me), I saw somethin’ that got me sittin’ straight in my chair. The couple were fightin’ or to put it more succinctly, the man was head-buttin’ and slappin’ the woman. It felt unreal and that disturbin’ image wouldn’t let me sit. I stood up and move close to get a good at the situation. As I got closer, my blood started boilin’, veils were poppin’ up on my arms (that happens when am mad, stressed or excited), I was ready to dumb-slap the motherfucker from the back but he was saved by a call that came through on his phone. He stood and moved away about twenty steps to answer the call. Nigga wasn’t aware of how close he came to a king size bitch slap.

I stood there waitin’ and watchin’ as he talked and laughed on the phone as if it was jus another day in paradise. Meanwhile, the chick was sittin’ there cryin’. I could tell she was cryin’ from the way her head drooped and how she dabbed the eyes with her wrapper (a wrap-around cloth).

The motherfucker in the red shirt came back like nothin’ was wrong and started whisperin’ in the woman’s ear, I stood there a lil confused like how could this nigga go from the devil in the red dress to a sweet-nothin’-whisperin’ angel in a few minutes? I shrugged and told myself “good thing I wasn’t too hasty at dishin’ out that king-size slap at all”

I went back to my seat but hardly have I sat down than the fool started head-buttin’ the woman again. I grabbed my bag and made for the guy but before I got there, nigga grabbed the lady and began makin’ their way into the right wing of the terminal. As I turned to follow them, three other guys came up to me and said they too have been watchin’ what was goin’ on. As if we’ve rehearsed the move, we marched after the couple, unbeknownst to them…unbeknownst, did y’all catch that? Damn! Who’d have thought a nigga like me would use such an archaic word. Lol!

A step behind the wife batterin’ fool, I finally got the chance to unload a nasty slap on the motherfucker. No word or explanation was needed. As he turned to find out what he hit him, I welcomed his face wit another wrath of god-like smack, bam! Nigga staggered backward, tryna get his balance. The other three guys generously donated a couple more slaps to the wife batterer’s face. The fool tried to explain that chick was his wife but we weren’t tryin’ to hear none of it. Pussy ass nigga started cryin’ to the wife, “Have you seen what you have done now.” I mean, can you believe it, he was blamin’ the wife!

For even hintin’ that the wife was responsible the beat down he was gettin’, I smacked him on the face some more and told the wife, “You better get yourself some help before this man kills you.”

Outro

I know some ladies can really over do shit sometime but whatever happens, no lady should have to endure shit like what that lady took. I mean, it wasn’t enough that the poor chick had to take beatings at the crib, the stupid husband didn’t give a fuck if they were in public, he whooped the wife’s ass wherever!

The irony of the whole thing was, the wife begged for us to spare the schmuck. Some folks came and begged for the fool too. They pro’ly thought we were goin’ to send him to his maker if they let the jungle justice carry on. Anyways, we reluctantly left them (the couples) but guess what I found out later? The man took the wife to a secluded spot and took off where I he left off. Unfortunately for him, one of the guys that was wit us saw what happened and took the fool to the police and they promptly locked his ass up. Another sad irony to the whole episode was that the wife was pro’ly the one who had to post bail for the fool.

12:40

I forgot to mention that I ran into the guy I was waitin’ for at the wife beater’s beat-down.

BURN NOTE AFTER READIN'

Friday
13 July
16:28
I saw her way before she and her tall self brought themselves through the door and somehow I knew she was goin’ to come to my counter for some help (there were five counters there, by the way). Once in the door, she went to the security lady standin’ by the display glass to inquire bout some’ as I turned my attention to gatherin’ my papers together and gettin’ ready to call it a fuckin’ day.

In mid-yawn a minute later, I saw the security lady pointin’ Miss Tall in my direction and bzzzzt, the buzzer went off in my head, and the crowd began to cheer and my boys bum-rushed the stage, givin’ me hugs and pounds. The show host was blown; he had that you-son-of-gun-how-did-you-know look on his freakin’ face. I looked at him, threw both my hands up and shrugged like hey, it ain’t a thing. Am a prophet like that!

Ladies and gentlemen, the prophecy was comin’ true right in front of my eyes. What prophecy was that again, you say? The one I told y’all about me knowin’ that the girl would come to me for help even right before she walked in the door…hello! Lol.

Stop it, I told myself! And jus in time for her arrival at my counter, I cut the yawn short, kill off the light on the imaginary crowd cheerin’ for me and turned on my Bruce Willis smile (a smile in the corner of your mouth), I said, “hi, how may I help you…you tall glass of Smirnoff spin?” Ok, am lyin’, that ‘tall glass of Smirnoff spin’ bit wasn’t said…it was jus a thought left for future use.

“Hi,” she replied, rewardin me wit’ a smile as she set an iPhone, a blackberry and her bag down on the counter. “I need to get some money from my Mobile Money account but I've forgotten my pin (number). Can you please help with it?” she continued

Still wearin’ that Die Hard smile (Bruce Willis’ style), I answered, “I could but it can’t be done today. The guys am suppose to call to help wit’ the password reset already shut down for the day”.

Leaning forward, “Please, I really need to get some money out of the account ‘cause there’s something I need to do like urgently,” she pleaded.

I rubbed my eyes and shook my head slowly.

“You know, I’ve been here a couple of times for Mobile Money,” she said

“Oh really,” I dimmed my eyes and quickly rummaged through my mental folders for her file but I came up wit nothin’, “how come I don’t remember you?”

“That’s because you’ve never served me” her BlackBerry chimed, she picked it up and typed a reply to some BBM. “I mostly come in for BIS subscription renewal. I see you all the time.”

“Oh, ok! Here I am thinkin’ you musta seen me on TV coolin’ Kanye and ‘em.”

“You wish” she smiled and said softly, “So, are you going to help me?”

“Well, if you had been here fifteen minutes earlier, I woulda done it for you,” I responded

Crushed, she rested both elbows on the counter, cupped her face in her palms, “pleeease,” she whispered.

Shawtie had a look on her face, the kinda look a lil girl would give an evil uncle who’s refused to let her have some Hershey’s (chocolate).

“Ah! You’re tryna blackmail a brotha wit that look, aren’t you?” I said in mock horror.

Batting her fake ass lashes, “Nooo!” she giggled, “Besides, the security lady said if I talk to you nicely that you might help.”

“Ok, lemme see what I can do. Give me your national ID and write your phone number down on that,” I said, Slidin’ her a lil piece of paper.

20 Minutes Later
Everythin’ done, Ms. Tall was happy, lookin’ every inch a satisfied customer that she was. I got the feelin’ I’d morphed from an evil chocolate hoardin’ uncle to a generous mutherfucker. She said thanks. I told her she was welcome.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked.

“Oh wait, lemme guess, you want to ask me to marry you?” I teased.

“Wait, let me think about it” she paused “well I thought about it and nahhh.”

“Oh ok” I covered my face and feigned sadness, “so what was it you wanted to ask?”

“Why do keep such an unruly beard?”

“’Cause I want to join the talibans” I quipped. “Besides, my wife and kids love it.”

“Puh-lease, you’re not even married” she hissed.

Before she scooped her bag gracefully from the counter to leave, she handed me a folded lil piece of paper she’d written somethin’ on. I unfolded it and for a second, my jaws dropped. I picked ‘em up quickly and acted like a boss would; I smiled. She winked, turned and sashayed out the door.

Thursday
15 August
18:39
I stood in front of one of the huge open fridges at Pick N Pack shop (a supermarket); nonchalantly singin’ John Mayer’s waiting for the world to change, contemplatin’ what brand of butter I should cop. Truth is, I was makin’ calculations in my head, tryin’ to see if I have enough for the brand I wanted and two loaves of freshly baked bread.

“Hi there” a female voice pulled me out of my contemplation. I turned around slowly (couldn’t turn my neck, shit’s been stiff for weeks now) and bam, it was the girl from a month ago, the one who left me a jaw-droppin’ note! There she was, she and her friend and a cart filled wit groceries.

“Look at you, standin’ there, singin’ to the fridge?” she said with a smirk.

I told her I was groomin’ my ass for the day I’ll become a rock star performin’ to a packed out stadium. She laughed and introduced me to her friend. We said the customary nice to ya. As we parted a few minutes later, she puts her hand to the side of her face, pinky to mouth, thumb to ear, mimicking a telephone and said, “Make use of that note”.

Outro
Oh yeah, about the note…what’s the biggie about the doggone note anyways, you ask? Well, there’s really no big deal if you’re a magic Don Juan like me…nah, am jus playin’. On a Don Juan scale, I don’t even measure. Lol.

The note says “something tells me u and me will fuck someday. Call me.”

My jaws were justified for fallin’, right? I mean, shit like don’t happen everyday to an average Joe. Except your name is Usher, you jus' don’t get females droppin’ notes like that on ya, do you? I don’t think so.

What did I do wit the number and the note? I tore it the moment she walked out the door. Now, I know alotta head-shakers might not believe I did that but that’s the true story right there.

Why did I tear the note? Well, business and pleasure don’t usually mix well and I knew if I kept the note, then there was every possibility that a nigga might make use of the number.

Now, no prize for guessin’ that if I’d shaken that tall tree jus a tiny bit, alil somethin’ somethin’ juicy would have fallen.

BURN NOTE AFTER READIN'

AFriday

13 July

16:28

I saw her way before she and her tall self brought themselves through the door and somehow I knew she was goin’ to come to my counter for some help (there were five counters there, by the way). Once in the door, she went to the security lady standin’ by the display glass to inquire bout some’ as I turned my attention to gatherin’ my papers together and gettin’ ready to call it a fuckin’ day.

In mid-yawn a minute later, I saw the security lady pointin’ Miss Tall in my direction and bzzzzt, the buzzer went off in my head, and the crowd began to cheer and my boys bum-rushed the stage, givin’ me hugs and pounds. The show host was blown; he had that you-son-of-gun-how- did-you-know look on his freakin’ face. I looked at him, threw both my hands up and shrugged like hey, it ain’t a thing. Am a prophet like that!

Ladies and gentlemen, the prophecy was comin’ true right in front of my eyes. What prophecy was that again, you say? The one I told y’all about me knowin’ that the girl would come to me for help even right before she walked in the door…hello! Lol.

Stop it, I told myself! And jus in time for her arrival at my counter, I cut the yawn short, kill off the light on the imaginary crowd cheerin’ for me and turned on my Bruce Willis smile (a smile in the corner of your mouth), I said, “hi, how may I help you…you tall glass of Smirnoff spin?” Ok, am lyin’, that ‘tall glass of Smirnoff spin’ bit wasn’t said…it was jus a thought left for future use.

“Hi,” she replied, rewardin me wit’ a smile as she set an iPhone, a blackberry and her bag down on the counter. “I need to get some money from my mobile money account but I’ve forgotten my pin (number). Can you please help with it?” she continued

Still wearin’ that Die Hard smile (Bruce Willis’ style), I answered, “I could but it can’t be done today. The guys am suppose to call to help wit’ the password reset already shut down for the day”

Leaning forward, “Please, I really need to get some money out of the account ‘cause there’s something I need to do like urgently,” she plead

I rubbed my eyes and shook my slowly.

“You know, I’ve been here a couple of times for mobile money,” she said

“Oh really,” I dimmed my eyes and quickly rummaged through my mental folders for her file but I came up wit nothin’, “how come I don’t remember you?”

“That’s because you’ve never served me” her BlackBerry chimed, she picked it up and typed a reply to some BBM. “I mostly come in for BIS subscription renewal. I see you all the time”

“Oh, ok! Here I am thinkin’ you musta seen me on TV coolin’ Kanye and ‘em”

“You wish” she smiled and said softly, “So, are you going to help me?”

“Well, if you had been here fifteen minutes earlier, I woulda done it for you,” I responded

Crushed, she rested both elbows on the counter, cupped her face in her palms, “pleeease,” she whispered.

Shawtie had a look on her face, the kinda look a lil girl would give an evil uncle who’s refused to let her have some Hershey’s (chocolate).

“Ah! You’re tryna blackmail a brotha wit that look, aren’t you?” I said in mock horror

Batting her fake ass lashes, “Nooo!” she giggled, “Besides, the security lady said if I talk to you nicely that you might help”

“Ok, Lemme see what I can do. Give me your national id and write your phone number down on that, “I said, Slidin’ her a lil piece of paper.

20 Minutes Later

Everythin’ done, Ms. Tall was happy, lookin’ every inch a satisfied customer that she was. I got the feelin’ I’d morphed from an evil chocolate hoardin’ uncle to a generous mutherfucker. She said thanks. I told her she was welcome.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked

“Oh wait, lemme guess, you want to ask me to marry you?” I teased

“Wait, let me think about it” she paused “well I thought about it and Nahhh”

“Oh ok” I covered my face and feigned sadness, “so what was it you wanted to ask”

“Why do keep such an unruly beard”

“’Cause I want to join the talibans” I quipped. “Besides, my wife and kids love it,”

“Puh-lease, you’re not even married” she hissed

Before she scooped her bag gracefully from the counter to leave, she handed me a folded lil piece of paper she’d written somethin’ on. I unfolded it and for a second, my jaws dropped. I picked ‘em up quickly and acted like a boss would; I smiled. She winked, turned and sashayed out the door.

Thursday

15 August

18:39

I stood in front of one of the huge open fridges at Pick N Pack shop (a supermarket); nonchalantly singin’ John Mayer’s waiting for the world to change, contemplatin’ what brand of butter I should cop. Truth is, I was makin’ calculations in my head, tryin’ to see if I have enough for the brand I wanted and two loaves of freshly baked bread.

“Hi there” a female voice pulled me out of my contemplation. I turned around slowly (couldn’t turn my neck, shit’s been stiff for weeks now) and bam, it was the girl from a month ago, the one who left me a jaw-droppin’ note! There she was, she and her friend and a cart filled wit groceries.

“Look at you, standin’ there, singin’ to the fridge?” she said with a smirk

I told her I was groomin’ my ass for the day I’ll become a rock star performin’ to a packed out stadium. She laughed and introduced me to her friend. We said the customary nice to ya. As we parted a few minutes later, she puts her hand to the side of her face, pinky to mouth, thumb to ear, mimicking a telephone and said, “Make use of that note”

Outro

Oh yeah, about the note…what’s the biggie about the doggone note anyways, you ask? Well, there’s really no big deal if you’re a magic Don Juan like me…nah, am jus playin’. On a Don Juan scale, I don’t even measure. Lol

The note says “something tells me u and me will fuck someday. Call me”

My jaws were justified for fallin’, right? I mean, shit like don’t happen every day to an average Joe. Except your name is Usher, you jus don’t get females droppin’ notes like that on ya, do you? I don’t think so.

What did I do wit the number and the note? I tore it the moment she walked out the door. Now, I know alotta head-shakers might not believe I did that but that’s the true story right there.

Why did I tear the note? Well, business and pleasure don’t usually mix well and I knew if I kept the note, then there was every possibility that a nigga might make use of the number.

Now, no prize for guessin’ that if I’d shaken that tall tree jus a tiny bit, alil somethin’ somethin’ juicy would have fallen.

ETHEL, GERALD LEVERT AND ME

Sunday
22 July
14:58
Am waiting
For someone who can turn my life around
Someone who could make me feel
The way I used to feel
But she never comes
I’m searching
But there’s no one that I’d care to talk about
And all the lovers in the world
Don’t amount to much
‘Cause what I really want is just one true love

And I give anything and everything to fall in love
Just this one I’d like to find
What I’ve been dreaming of
Well, I could find someone to hold
But that wouldn’t be enough
But I’d give anything to fall in love

Did you find anythin’ you can use in those words? Oh, you found somethin’ for your next Facebook status update? You did!

Whoa, here I am thinkin’ you’ve out grown steadin’ lyrics off of songs to impress your boy / girl. No? c’mon, I know we've all gone through that phase before. Lmao!

And yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’ about me writin’ out those lyrics, yep I really do.

Lose that thought ‘cause the answer is no, I haven’t sold out and yep, you’re still rockin’ wit’ a wolf in wolf clothin’. Ah ha! I like that, wolf in wolf clothin’.

13:46
I left church, oh wait, I didn’t leave, I snuck out the church before the grace was said *drops down to knees and prays for forgiveness* (can't promise I won't do it again), I switched on my radio and boom, that song came on and I was transported back in time.

1995
Zaria,
Nigeria
It was an excitin’ period for good music, matter of fact, the nineties generally had great gems, I can still remember how gangsta rap had everybody and their uncles doin’ the crip-walk, how new jack swing filled numerous dance floors wit’ dance-hungry folks, how dancehall and jungle beats had nigga bobbin’ their domes and yes, I remember how R&B had the romantics stealin’ lines from them love songs.

One of the numerous monster R&B joints that had me memorizin’ shit was “I’d Give Anything” a 1994 power romantic ballad by Gerald Levert, it was taken from his second solo album “Groove On”. The song was the album lead single and I sang it everywhere, in the shower, in the bush, when am takin’ a dump (yeah, I took dumps in the bushes that time…c’mon, it was in school and y’all know how school toilets can be, right?) and above all, I sang that song whenever I wanna impress a hot chick!

Ethel
Now, that’s a name I’ll never forget, why? Ethel and Gerald Levert's “I’d Give Anything” are eternally linked in my head.

Ethel was tall (as in, Jessica Gomes' tall) and hot. All the boys wanted piece of that ass. Jus to have her talk to you or hang out wit your ass, your rep in school would go through the roof. Yep, shawtie was that hot. Apart from bein’ pretty, she was full of herself. Shit like that happens when a girl is too aware of how pretty she is, right?

Anyways, my third close contact wit Ethel was at a lil' hang-out called Double Four. It was a place all the “happening” people in school hung-out; the place had hot / current music for days.

One cold evenin’ I was at the joint wit my boy Toye (I wonder where that nigga is) and “I’d give anything” came through the speakers; it was my opportunity to show these so called happenin’ guys (Ethel and her equally pretty snob nose friends) that they weren’t up to date. I began to ride the song like Levert (God bless his soul) featured on the song, from the corner of my eyes, I knew I had them eatin’ from the palm of my hand. What, niggas claimed they know whassup but they didn’t know the hottest R&B joint out. Somebody shoulda told them that part of bein’ in the in-crowd was knowin’ what song was hot and knowin’ how to sing along. I stole the fuckin’ show under the noses of the boys who were in the place... I knew I did cause none of those mutherfuckers thought I had it like that... am still up on things jus' incase some of readin' this want a battle. Lol!

Outro
Did anybody notice the part where I mentioned that day I did that duet wit Gerald Levert was my third close encounter wit Ethel? Well, the first two weren't too pleasant but that’s a story for another day / blog.

Huh, did I get an all access pass into Ethel’s pussy after my Grammy worthy performance? The answer’s no but it changed her opinion about me (I know cause she told me) and I got a friend of hers to the goods, all thanks to that song.

Note
“I’d Give Anything” was written by Chris Farren and Linda Thompson. It was produced and arranged by David Foster and was originally recorded as “she’d give anything (to fall in love)” by the country group Boy Howdy.

Gerald Levert was born on July 13 1966, in Philadelphia. He died in November 10, 2006. RIP.

ETHEL, GERALD LEVERT AND ME

Sunday

22 July

14:58

Am waiting

For someone who can turn my life around

Someone who could make me feel

The way I used to feel

But she never comes

I’m searching

But there’s no one that I’d care to talk about

And all the lovers in the world

Don’t amount to much

‘Cause what I really want is just one true love

And I give anything and everything to fall in love

Just this one I’d like to find

What I’ve been dreaming of

Well, I could find someone to hold

But that wouldn’t be enough

But I’d give anything to fall in love

Did you find anythin’ you can use in those words? Oh, you found somethin’ for your next facebook status update? You did!

Whoa, here I am thinkin’ you’ve out grown steadin’ lyrics off of songs to impress your boy/girl. No? c’mon, I know we’ve all gone through that phase before. Lmao!

And yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’ about me writin’ out those lyrics, yep I really do.

Lose that thought ‘cause the answer is no, I haven’t sold out and yep, you’re still rockin’ wit’ a wolf in wolf clothin’. Ah ha! I like that, wolf in wolf clothin’.

13:46

I left church, oh wait, I didn’t leave, I snuck out the church before the grace was said *drops down to knees and prays for forgiveness*(can’t promise I won’t do it again), I switched on my radio and boom, that song came on and I was transported back in time

1995

Zaria,

Nigeria

It was an excitin’ period for good music, matter of fact, the nineties generally had great gems, I can still remember how gangsta rap had everybody and their uncles doin’ the crip-walk, how new jack swing filled numerous dance floors wit’ dance-hungry folks, how dancehall and jungle beats had nigga bobbin’ their domes and yes, I remember how R&B had the romantics stealin’ lines from them love songs.

One of the numerous monster R&B joints that had me memorizin’ shit was “I’d Give Anything” a 1994 power romantic ballad by Gerald Levert, it was taken from his second solo album “Groove On”. The song was the album lead single and I sang it everywhere, in the shower, in the bush, when am takin’ a dump (yeah, I took dumps in the bushes that time…c’mon, it was in school and y’all know how school toilets can be, right?) and above all, I sang that song whenever I wanna impress a hot chick!

Ethel

Now, that’s a name I’ll never forget, why? Ethel and Gerald Levert’s “I’d Give Anything” are eternally linked in my head.

Ethel was tall (as in, Jessica Gomes' tall) and hot. All the boys wanted piece of that ass. Jus to have her talk to you or hang out wit your ass, your rep in school would go through the roof. Yep, shawtie was that hot. Apart from bein’ pretty, she was full of herself. Shit like that happens when a girl is too aware of how pretty she is, right?

Anyways, my third close contact wit Ethel was at a lil hang-out called Double Four. It was a place all the “happening” people in school hung-out; the place had hot/current music for days.

One cold evenin’ I was at the joint wit my boy Toye (I wonder where that nigga is) and “I’d give anything” came through the speakers; it was my opportunity to show these so called happenin’ guys (Ethel and her equally pretty snob nose friends) that they weren’t up to date. I began to ride the song like Levert (God bless his soul) featured on the song, from the corner of my eyes, I knew I had them eatin’ from the palm of my hand. What, niggas claimed they know whassup but they didn’t know the hottest R&B joint out. Somebody shoulda told them that part of bein’ in the in-crowd was knowin’ what song was hot and knowin’ how to sing along. I stole the fuckin’ show under the noses of the boys who were in the place...i knew i did cause none of those mutherfuckers thought i had  it like that...am still up on things jus' incase some of readin' this want a battle. lol!

Outro

Did anybody notice the part where I mentioned that day I did that duet wit Gerald Levert was my third close encounter wit Ethel? Well, the first two weren’t too pleasant but that’s a story for another day/blog.

Huh, did I get an all access pass into Ethel’s pussy after my Grammy worthy performance? The answer’s no but it changed her opinion about me (I know cause she told me) and I got a friend of hers to the goods, all thanks to that song.

Note

“I’d Give Anything” Was written by Chris Farren and Linda Thompson. It was produced and arranged by David Foster and was originally recorded as “she’d give anything (to fall in love)” by the country group Boy Howdy.

Gerald Levert was born on July 13 1966, in Philadelphia. He died in November 10, 2006. RIP