#69 - Dance in the Rain

Oh, you thought I forgot about my 101 Tasks in 1001 Days?
Naw, I just had to regroup myself for  a second.
You know how things go.
And since I've been slacking these last few months,
I have major catching up to do.
So I got an easy one out of the way last night.

Now, I've never seen Dancing in the Rain....
[does a Google search]
That's because it's called Singin' in the Rain.
Wow, I'm terrible.
But in any case,
I obviously owe it to myself to watch it.
Without classic movies like those,
where would we be, right?

Luckily my challenge based of a movie wasn't a total bust, because if you're dancing why not sing too?

I got out of a meeting early yesterday evening.
However I still had to wait to be picked up.
Of course, being the guy I am, I always have my iPod and headphones on deck.
As soon as everyone else left,
I headed towards the empty parking lot.
I selected a playlist I knew most of the words to
and one I could easily bust a move to: Blaine and the Pips.
Yes, I pretended like I was Darren Criss on Glee
and moved around that parking lot like I had a whole crew of Warblers behind me.
Obviously, I'm not as good a singer as Mr. Criss,
but I like to think I'm damn good when I drop an octave. haha

In case you're wondering,
yes I did incorporate choreography from the show.
Shoot, I even kicked my foot across a few puddles
like I was Chris Brown in that one video [I think].
...I suddenly realize I could have performed
the Singing in the Rain/Umbrella mash up from Glee, too.
Oh well. Next time.

So what did I get out of doing this?
Well for one, I got my life.
It just... I excited myself.
When that light or steady drizzle hits your head
as you sweat through song after song,
you almost don't want to stop.
You could keep going like that rabbit that represents Energizer.
That is until the downpour comes.
Then you'll like, "Well it was fun while it lasted, but fuck this!"

But overall, it's just a freeing experience.
I highly recommended it,
even to those that can't sing or dance.
Go out and get your life!
Word.

Outside at the Restaurant

Whenever I visit New York City
I pass restaurants with patrons eating outside.
Usually I have to keep myself from staring.
It's not that I'm people watching,
I do that as part of my regular routine.
It's more of an admiration.

You see, I have this vision of a perfect life in my head.
As a writer, I see myself being part of the "in crowd" if you will.
I'll live in a small studio apartment
in some big city where there's always something to do.
I'll have friends and associates that provide great conversation.
And I'll eat at the small self-run restaurants that are recommended by newspapers.

To me, eating outside at a restaurant is a sign of class.
It says I'm good enough to dine here and be noticed by you.
I realize how pompous this sounds,
but dammit it's the life that's always allured me.

I feel as if some people, the middle-classer born to a well enough family,
naturally come into this kind of lifestyle.
It's their norm and always will be.

When I've visited NYC with friends in the past
[most recently with my best friend's friends],
we'll settle for eating at some fast food joint
or a popular restaurant in Times Square that has specials.
We tried to go to one of the restaurants where people dine outside once.
It was a beautiful white bricked building with a white awning.
Instantly I became excited and began checking my wallet
to make sure I had enough money to try something new and exotic.
But before I received a chance to count my duckets (ducats)
one of the guys in the group said, "Man, this place ain't for us. We don't belong here."

I had to agree.
Most of the people in our party were 16-19 year old black kids
wearing the latest in urban fashion trends.
The people I saw eating there,
and working there for that matter,
where all white, 25 and up dressed in sensible threads.
[There was one Asian waitress. Bad little number, too.]
My friend's friends were defeated before they even truly attempted to eat there.
A classic example of the black mentality:
a feeling of displacement without trying to integrate.

So I suppose I wish for a lifestyle of art exhibits, poetry readings, and outdoor dining
as a way of proving to myself that I don't have to fall victim to such a way of thinking.
It's a socioeconomic status I plan on achieving.
Besides, I heard this place called Benny's Burritos has great Mexican cuisine.
I can't let that go by.
Word.

The Facebook Music Club

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to share music on Facebook.
Not my own music, no.
I haven't even written a lyric yet.
But this isn't about my musical prowess, it's about my taste in music.

I'm sure I've mentioned something to the affect of college reshaping the kind of music I listen to.
To me, music is essential to development as well,
and the more you have,
the better of a person you might turn out to be.
That's why I have 8775 songs in my iTunes right now.
Now I'm not saying quantity over quality at all.
I'm simply saying the more songs you have,
and the more diverse those songs are,
the better chance you have of gain new outlooks and taste.

It is by no luck at all that my iPod is always sought after,
no matter who I'm around or where I am.
I like to think I've garnered a reputation as a person with good taste in music.
I've always been regarded as a hip-hop connoisseur at the very least.

So why have I taken to Facebook to share my music taste?
Well, because that's were I've been getting more and more of my music lately,
especially rock, soul, alternative,
and music I don't know how else to describe but as indie.
I happen to have friends with equally good taste.
Usually if I like the artist enough,
I'll start looking into some of their other stuff too.

So, I figured why not share the wealth as well.
It's always done tastefully through YouTube urls.
And if you're smart, you've figured out how to turn those videos into mp3s.
If not, that was your hint.

Always feel free to visit my Facebook page for music.
I post a song, or more, a day.
Hip-hop, R&B, Soul, Oldies, Alternative, Rock, Musicals.
Everything put Country and Heavy Metal.
Giving you the songs you might not have ever heard before.
It's there to be enjoyed.

I encourage you to join.
I'm sure there are websites devoted to sharing music like this,
but why not do it on Facebook?
It's already the Walmart of the internet.
Word.

For the few of you reading this who are strangers to me
and would not know me on Facebook,
here are some songs that have been previously featured:

Bell Biv Devoe - Poison vs The Beastie Boys - Intergalactic
Bjork - Who Is It
Bone Thugs N Harmony - 1st of the Month
Childish Gambino - Not Going Back
A Chorus Line - Surprise
A Cool Stick - Hippie Girl
Cosmo Jarvis - Sure as Hell Not Jesus
Cowboy Bebop Theme - Tank
Estelle - In the Rain
Jay Electronica feat Jay-Z - Shiny Suit Theory
A Goofy Movie - Eye to Eye
Metronomy - The Look
Nuyorican Soul - Nautilus (Mawtilus)
OutKast - Humble Mumble
Pogo - Living Island (H.R. Pufnstuf Remix)
The Temptations - Papa Was a Rolling Stone

The Appeal of Reality Stardom

You've seen them,
from the 20-somethings in search of themselves
to the rude housewives with no husband
to people willing to do anything for money.
Every week, you tune in and cheer or mock them.
You're so appalled yet can't look away.
Reality TV is taking over scripted television,
and it's nothing new.

But you just have to sit back in wonder sometimes,
"Why would these people put their whole lives on TV like this?"
Are they mad? Possibly.
Unable to go on without delivering a monologue to a camera? Wouldn't be surprised.
Starved for attention? Certainly and without a doubt.

But one day,
as I watched an episode of Real World: Las Vegas (2),
it finally hit me.

People who go on reality shows are just being themselves,
or an exaggerated version of themselves, rather.
They are on a show because the casting director deemed interesting.
In honesty, every person on a reality show is interesting,
some more so than others, admittedly.
Then a camera crew just films them in their everyday life;
this crew isn't even allowed to talk to you.
It could give you the feeling that they are beneath you.

Once your show airs,
viewers will love you if your charismatic enough.
Shit, viewers could hate you but they'll still watch.
They will continue to watch just to hate you.
(see Ronnie and Sam of Jersey Shore).

The break out personalities on these shows
are then offered deals to just come out to a club.
They aren't paid to perform.
They're paid to show up.
They just request your presence.
You're paid to have fun.
People want to meet you.
Granted, your 15 minutes will be just that, 15 minutes.
Still, dedicated viewers will remember you and call you their favorite.
How could that not warm you heart and brighten your day?

Some even use reality shows
as a jumpoff point for their career.
There's no greater example than the Real World kids.
Kevin Powell, from the first season in New York,
is an political activist, writer, and entrepreneur.
He even appear on Oprah back in 09.
Mike The Miz" Mizanin, of the 2001 season in New York,
is the current WWE Champion.
Pauly D from Jersey Shore not only has a spin-off reality show in the works, but he's also the exclusive resident DJ at the Palms Casino Resort in Vegas.
You can even get a book deal and not be a creditable writer! (see the Situation and Snooki)
Oh yeah, and that one white chick from Real Housewives of Atlanta has that one song.
Ain't no such thing as fashionable late to her shindigs.

Reality shows:
the only job that can make you famous for just being who you are.
Word.

Today on Maury...

These past few weeks
I have become completely fascinated by Maury.
It just amazes me how many paternity tests
they show can go through
and still keep me entertained.
That, my friends [and associates], is good TV.

However,
even though are multiple different stories that make their way to the Maury stage, there's still one I'm dying to see.
So instead of waiting for it,
I wrote a segment of my own.
I mean, come on.
I'm sure some of the people on that show are actors,
or at least I pray they are.
Otherwise, lawd have mercy.

Anyway, without further adieu, here it is.


Maury- This is Tabitha. (camera pans to a stone faced 20-something black woman) This is Gerbernisha, Tabitha's 3 month year old daughter. (chubby black baby with her tongue out, eyes closed, and a poof of nappy hair on her head appears on the screen behind Maury; the crowd "aaaw"s) And this is Jericho, the man Tabitha says is her child's baby daddy. (a skinny black man with a jean jacket and no shirt splits the screen with the child)

Tabitha- You damn right Maury, he da baby daddy. My lil gurl look jus' like him!

Maury- But he's the twist. Jericho's gay. (crowd is shocked)

Tabitha- He ain't gay. He was all in this pussy a year ago!

Maury- Why don't you tell us what happened? How did you end up sleeping with a gay man?

Tabitha- Well, Maury, Jericho had been my best friend since high school and he been in the closet. Well when we went to college he wanted me to pretend to be his gurlfriend so nobody would think he was gay. So I did. Then one night, Maury, we got drunk and he decided to jump up on this. A week later, Maury, I found out I was pregnant. Soon as I told that n***a he just wanna have nothin to do wit me! He wasn't even there when da baby was born, Maury! He a f**kin deadbeat!

Maury- I see. Well why don't we just bring the deadbeat out? Jericho, come on out.

(Jericho sashays out as the crowd boos)

Jericho- Wateva, wateva. Ya'll just mad cause I look fabulous and ya'll look like trash. Hey, Maury. (Maury sticks his hand out for a handshake; Jericho provides a passionate hug instead) How you doin? ...Ugh. Hi, Tabby.

Tabitha- N***a, you know that's your daughter! You betta step up and take care of yours! I don't care if you gay, bi, straight. Whateva. You gon' pay me!

Maury- Jericho, why are you denying Gerbernisha?

Jericho- Well for one, Maury, look at her name? Gerbernisha?

Tabitha- She gonna be the best Gerber baby eva. Just ya'll watch. (she turns to the screen) Yes you are, baybay. Yes you are.

Jericho- Second of all, Maury, yes I had sex with her, but I couldn't even get it up.

Tabitha- You lyin!

Jericho- Maury, I like boys! Pussy is scary, Maury. I took one look at that shit and almost fainted. I turned her around and hit it from the back. That's the only way I could get through it.

Maury- Why'd you even do it in the first place?

Jericho- I was drunk and horny, Maury. S**t happens.

Tabitha- Yeah, babies happen too, idiot. (crowd cheers)

Maury- Why is she saying you're the father, then? Do you think it's someone else?

Jericho- I don't know, Maury. I guess she just obsessed with me.

Tabitha- Obsessed?! Oh, I'mma show you obsessed. (she gets up to fight him. Jericho stands up and take his earrings out)

Jericho- What, bitch! I'm gay; I ain't afraid to hit no girl.

(security restrains both guests)

Tabitha- You lucky I ain't tryna act a damn fool in front'a Maury.

Jericho- Yeah wateva, bitch.

Maury- Jericho, I understand you brought someone here with you.

Jericho- That's right, Maury. My man is in the audience. Tyrone, stand up, girl!

(Tyrone stands up in the front of the audience and waves with all his fabulousness)

Tyrone- Maury, the only reason why that fag hag is claiming that baby is his is because she always loved him and could never have him! He's mines, bitch. Leave him alone!

(Tabitha launches toward Tyrone but two guards catch her, her hand nearly clawing his face)

Tyrone- Sit yo ass down, ho.

Maury- Jericho, do you want kids?

Jericho- Yas, Maury. I do.

Maury- So why are you denying this child?

Jericho- Because I want a baby, Maury, but not with her. I'm am ova her like no other.

Tabitha- (her hand in her head, hair a mess) Maury, can you just read the results. These faggot ass niggas is givin me a headache.

Maury- We just so happen to have the results ready. (producer hands results to Maury; crowd cheers) Before I open this I need to know, Jericho, if this baby is yours are you gonna take care of it?

Jericho- Yes, Maury. Of course. But from a distance. I'mma need someone other than her to drop the baby off at my house.

Tabitha- F**k you!

Jericho- You wish, bitch.

Maury- Jericho, in the case of Gerbernisha, you... are the father.

Tabitha- I told you!

Jericho- Naw, Maury. Naw. Bring out the real results!

Maury- These are the real results.

Tabitha- I told you you hit it from the front. Ooow!!! (hits her dougie)

Jericho- I can't, chile. Ugh! (storms off the stage)

(camera pans to Gerbernisha, she stares blankly at the camera with piercing black eyes.)


Word.

Toying Around

I was at a meeting yesterday,
and one of the guys had to bring his son.
He didn't have a babysitter and no one had a problem with it.
I ended up paying the kid more attention than anything else.
No. I am not a pedobear.
I was simply entranced by his toys.

Let me elaborate, this kid had a damn suitcase of action figures.
They were all from the Marvel universe: Captain America, Thor, Iron Man, Hawkeye, Hulk, Spiderman, Venom, Wolverine, Dr. Strange, Ghost Rider, Spiderwoman, and more that I can't remember off hand.
I do recall he had 22.
(I was curious, so I took inventory.)

He laid them out,
one by one,
making sure each one could stand up and wouldn't fall over, positioning the legs at just the right angles.
And he didn't put all of the heroes against the villians, no.
The two were integrated, forming new sides.
Two lines of warriors facing each other.
Once he completed his set up, he left them be.
They served more as figurines than as action figures.
He sat there and admired his artistic direction.
If one happened to fall over,
he'd let out a sigh and immediately made it stand at attention once more.

It wasn't until he knew the meeting was coming to a close
that he finally took action and commenced the battle.
I'm not sure who won.
They mostly just ran into each other and fall over after one blow.

Why did I stare at the child and his toys all meeting?
Because I felt such a connection to what he was doing.
I remember spending countless hours in my room
playing with my Power Rangers, Beetleborgs, Transformers,
Batmen and robins, Marvel heroes, and other random characters.
I remember the frustration with making certain figures stand up
or getting them into a unique pose that no other figure could pull off.

I created storylines where they all crossed paths.
Each was basically its own tribe.
Some were friendly, some worked together,
others terrorized the world (I created for them).
And I would often rotate who were the villains
or simply move the story to their point of view.
[It should be noted that I didn't have any villain action figures.
I never liked any of them. I only wanted the heroes.
But of course, every hero needs a villain. ]

I had a very strong connection to my action figures.
In all honesty, I think I have them to thank
for helping me want to persue a career in writing.
When I tell you I had storylines for days, I mean for years!
It was on some As the World Turns shit.
Romance, tension, betrayal, adventure.
Oh, and the battle scenes?
I was a fucking fight choreographer in that bitch.

I'm strolling down memory lane so hard right now.
Most of those actions figures are still in the toy chest in my room.
My nephews have attempted many times to take them away from me.
I constantly tell them no, only parting with ones I have less of a connection to.

Yes! These are the exact ones.

But I tell you this,
they will never get my Original Power Rangers!
It's bad enough one lost Trini as a toddler
and the other broke Jason's leg 4 years later.
As you can see, I have yet to truly forgive them.

I guess the whole point of this is to say
I miss my action figures.
I might just have to pull them out.
I could use a good reason to make up a story again.
Word.

You Got No Game, Sir

In my 21 years of existence,
I've had 1 girlfriend and 1 boyfriend.
Both approached me.
Both did it via MySpace.
Yeah, that long ago. haha

All this time
I thought I was single because I had a hard time
finding other gay guys I'm actually interested in.
No, this is not true at all.
Fact is, I have no game.

You'd think with my track record,
I'd at least have some inkling as to how to pick up people.
I mean, I kissed my first girl on the cheek when I was 4;
I had a crush on a girl in 1st/2nd grade that turn to a lil something cute;
I had a crush on a girl in 3rd/4th grade that became a friendship;
I had a crush on a girl in 6th/7th grade that almost turned into something before she moved (or so I tell myself);
I had a crush on a girl in 8th grade that I think liked me back.
I had a short romance with a girl I did a play with in 11th grade.
I'll be honest, that last one was my fault.
I didn't follow up with her after the play and then someone else swooped in.

But I'm saying,
I was such a little Casanova.
Where did my ability to make someone mines go?

I'm coming to the realization that I never had it.
I just knew how to get out of the friend zone.
In fact, it's my entrance point.
I don't think I've hit on a random person yet.
Well, one person, but I was really drunk.

For the most part, even now,
I only seriously think about a relationship
with people I already know.
I think it goes back to that whole "finding my Topenga" thing I have.
And sense I don't know too many gay guys,
my dating pool is fairly limited.

But even when I do attempt to go after a guy,
after months of trying to figure out if he's gay or not
(because I always go for the ambiguous type),
my pick up line has been, "Are you gay?"
How fucking bad of a line is that?
What the fuck was I thinking?
I'm pretty sure I've related this story to you guys before,
but it never fails to amaze me still.
Even if the guy was gay,
he was most likely closeted
and think I was trying to out him, not hit on him.

Other times, I just things fizzle out.
This often happens the few times someone shows interest in me.
It would usually have something to do with distance and/or effort on my part.
I think I was lazy and just wanted someone on campus. smh.

So now,
I'm attempting to re-train myself in the art of the pick-up.
We'll see how well this goes.
Hopefully I won't have to resort to websites again.
Word.