Tacky is as Tacky Does

Many of you have probably seen the pictures from the wedding of Michael K. Cole and Jamil Smith Cole. If not, let me refresh your memory:

 

Now that your eyes have stopped burning from the opulence, I only have one thing to say, GUUUUUUURL!!!!

I salute them for their commitment. It is rare to see two black gay men making such a public statement, but this is some hot gay ghetto madness. Get into handmade couture gown with the train arranged elegantly on the step. The beard! The hair! the eyebrows! I love how Shaniqua and Dayquanna are standing there with that "I know I look good" face.

Two of my good bristas got married in Boston this summer. They rented tuxes and had a beautiful simple ceremony under the trees in Boston Commons, followed by a carriage ride. SIMPLE. ELEGANT. CLASSY. Yes I am hating, but not like the woman at Morehouse who made homophobic comments and got fired. My hate comes from a place of "Chile Cheez!"

By contrast, my wedding will be a simple affair, in my signature colors of blush and bashful!

Remembered... Pleasure?, part two

I have started and re-written this second part of the story several times, trying to figure out how to portray the narrative. The emotions involved require more than just a straightforward telling of the facts, and yet, I don't want to gloss over the reality of the situation with beautiful words and imagery, so once again, here goes nothing...

The next day, I picked him up from a pool party the next day, ready to pick up where we left off, and he was drunk and high. He had gotten totally fucked up and was hitting on our mutual friends. He correctly interpreted my stony silence and apologized profusely. I told him in no uncertain terms that while i was totally interested in him, we could just chalk it up to a good weekend and leave it at that. He apologized.

A single, deep, long kiss in front of Eric's apartment building, an exhaled "I'm sorry, Daddy," and all was forgiven.

Another wonderful kiss, more deep sharing of confidences. A perfect cap on the weekend and as he disappeared into the airport that Tuesday, my heart was happy and full.

The following Tuesday was September 11, 2001, my second day on a new job. As I watched the first tower fall, my thoughts were of him, and how he would soon be on his way to work for a bank in a highrise in downtown Los Angeles. I called him and made him promise me that he would not go to work that day.

I guess it was 5 or 6 months later that I got a call late one evening... "Daddy? I just got gay-bashed!" He was calling me, crying, from the hospital. I did my best to console him. i told him I would fly out the next day, but he said that he would be ok. I insisted, saying that he needed someone to protect him, to watch over him. He started to get mad, yelling at me that I couldn't protect him, I was in DC and he was in LA and he was on his own. There wasn't really anything I could say.

I was too young and too infatuated and too in love with the idea of being in love to see that a long distance relationship with an tragically beautiful and emotionally needy man with Daddy issues who was living his life at a much lower price point than I was would never work. I found out that he pretty much exclusively dated thuggish, gangster-looking types, which in LA meant real gang-bangers. Although I looked mean, i am certainly not a gangster or a thug and he was used to the phsysical and emotional drama that such relationships bring. He often manufactured things to be pissed off with me about. He once called me and got mad at me because he had to masturbate because I wasn't there to fuck him when he wanted to get fucked. It was draining, but still, I hung in there.

Two straws broke the camel's back.

He called me once, his voice pregnant with guilt. "I went to a party last a couple of weeks ago. This dude was there, he kind of reminded me of you and he said I was cute. He had a limo, Daddy, and we drove around all night. I'm sorry Daddy, but now he's all up in my video!" My VERY first thought was what the fuck does all up in my video mean, but my heart knew what it meant and it was breaking. Although he didn't say it, he had almost certainly had sex with this guy, which wasn't the worst part. By mutual agreement, we had agreed not to discuss any "activities" we had been involved in to scratch that itch. What hurt was that he felt that he had to tell me about this particular one, which meant, that more than just a momentary itch was scratched.

I asked him what he meant by all up in his video and what he intended to do about it. He said he didn't know, but that he was sorry. Sorry for what, he wouldn't say. It was a couple of weeks before Valentine's day. I had already bought a ticket to visit him in LA and made all these arrangements. Two weeks later, he hit me up online and casually mentioned that he was going to Palm Springs for Valentine's Day weekend. I was FLOORED. I asked him about our plans and he said he thought I was only talking hypothetically. I reminded him that I had emailed him the confirmation. He totally blew me off. At that point I was pretty much done, even though I hung in there until that Labor Day

So much more happened than that in the two years that we were "together." What hurt the most was the realization that I was obviously more in love with him that he was with me. What did that say about me that I allowed myself to be blinded to a fact that was obvious to everyone else?

*dead*

Who Gon' Check Me Boo

I take back everything bad I ever said about Sheree for two reasons:

1. I love a fightin' bitch

2. I am not trying to have Pookie from Cleveland knocking on my door

This is bama-ry in the first degree!

Remembered... Pleasure?, part one

I have never written of this before because frankly it was too painful, but here goes nothing...

I met him Memorial Day Weekend 2001. I was still fresh off a weekend of whoring around and getting my life at Parliament House in Augusta, GA the previous month. He was with my friend Eric. He was wearing jeans and a sky blue jersey. He was short, brown-skinned and very very cute and he had an intensity about him that drew me in. We shook hands, the touch lingering a few seconds more than necessary for strangers meeting in a crowded room. We spoke of simple things and common interests, always managing to be near one another throughout the rest of the day.

An exhange of numbers, the promise of a date before he returned to Los Angeles...

He never called

I chalked it up to the normal flakiness of black gay men and didn't really give it any thought. Two weeks later, on a Friday, I get an IM at work: "I kicked myself every minute of the trip home for not calling you." It was him. He said he felt foolish, because he was into me from the moment I said hello. He thought it was crazy to be so into someone he had just met.

That night we talked until the battery on my cellphone died and then we talked some more until the battery on his cordless died and then, we talked some more until my cordless phone died. Somewhere during that conversation, he called me Daddy for the first time. I had always hated that word, because I felt it meant I was getting old, but falling from his lips, it was the sweetest melody I had ever heard.

For the next three weeks, we were as inseparable as two people could be (who lived on opposite coasts). We revealed everything about ourselves, the good, the bad and the ugly and still wanted to know more. Plans were made. I had to reveal to him that I planned to take a trip for the 4th of July to Tennessee to meet someone I had begun chatting with before I met him. He said that was fine, after all, we were just getting to know each other.

Well it wasn't fine.

When I got back, his attitude changed. He became defensive and argumentative. He accused my of cheating on him. In short, he became a crazy bitch. Hmmm... maybe there was a reason we lived on opposite coasts. He was dismissed.

Labor Day Weekend, 2001

The mutual friend, Eric, had a little soiree at his house and had invited both of us, unbeknownst to the other. When he saw me, I saw the shock register on his face. I had almost forgotten how beautiful he was. He came up and invited me into the hallway. The door closed behind us and there we were. I reached out to touch his face, stroking the contours of his eyebrows, his cheeks, his lips. He whispered to me, please Daddy don't, even as he moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating. We stood in silence for what must have been seconds and felt like glorious hours. And then he crossed the final barrier. He leaned up and kissed me. I kissed him back and we kissed each other. I had to have him.

On the ride back to my hotel room, we spoke again of inconsequential things, trying to fill in the 2-month gap that we didn't speak to each other. He asked me if I had heard Erykah Badu's second CD, "Mama's Gun." I said no, and he replied that there was a track on it that reminded him of me...

Many nights he was alone
Many, many many nights
His light was too bright
So they turned away
And he stood alone
Every night and every day
Then he turned to me
He saw his reflection in me
Then he smiled at me
When he turned to me
And he said to me
How Good It Is!

I'm an Orange Moon
I'm brighter than before
Brighter than ever before
I'm an Orange Moon
And I shine so bright
'Cuz I reflect the light
Of my Sun
Ohhhhhhhh
I praise the day
He turned my way
And smiled at me
He gets to smile and I
I get to be Orange
Like I like to be
How Good It Is!

You're the bright light Daddy and most people don't get you, but I'm your Orange Moon and I get you.

I literally had to pull the car over for a second to catch my breath. Was I dreaming? Did I finally meet someone who actually GOT me? I looked at him and he looked at me and there was no one else in the world. He interlocked him hand with mine and kissed it. He held it tight all the way back to the hotel.

Eddie Murphy makes a joke about fucking versus making love. Now, I had fucked many men, but that night was the first night I had ever made love to someone. It was beautiful and highly erotic, intimate, passionate, wild and freaky.

The next day, on the way back into the city, he said I turned him on because I knew all the words to Jay-Z's Hey Papi. He said he liked that thuggishness. Then the DJ switched it up a little bit...

And I can't believe it's real

Can't believe it's you

Can't believe it's happening

Can't believe it's you

And I can't believe that you are here with me

And I am here with you

Kissing you

He kissed me again right before getting out of the car and heading back to Eric's apartment. I went right out and bought Mama's Gun.

(to be continued)

Her Pussy Will be Missed

Mr. Peacock, Mrs. Slocombe is free. Molly Sudgen died today at the age of 86. She was the star of the hilarious British comedy Are You Being Served.

She will be missed, and I am unanimous in that!

Remembering the Legend

I remember sitting in my parents' bedroom watching Motown 25 when Michael first moonwalked across the stage. I had seen it before from kids in school, but for my parents, it was like they had just seen someone fly. Even for me, it was a revelation because although I had seen it before no one had ever done it so flawlessly, so effortlessly.

I remember the premiere of the "Remember the Time" video. All the black stars were there: Eddie Murphy, Iman, Magic Johnson. It wasnt particularly groundbreaking in its special effects or anything, just a very well-done video, great storyline, beautiful cast. It was Michael's way of saying that regardless of how light his skin got, he knew where he came from.

I remember the song "You are not Alone." Mainly because I like cheesy lovesongs.

I was never a huge Michael Jackson fan but you would have had to live under a rock to not be aware of and influenced by his music. I never cared about his appearance, which yes, did grow increasingly freaky over the years. That's why I chose the photo above.

Yes, it is a wonderfully retouched photo taken under the most ideal lighting conditions, with heavy makeup and photoshopped within an inch of its life, but I think it represents how Michael saw himself. Baby, we ALL have our delusions. Michael just had enough money to make his reality.

Here's to the most beautiful and talented white woman to ever grace the cover of Ebony Magazine! Long may his memory live!

As they might say over at DListed.com, this made my no-no hole say yes-yes!!

Lastly I also suspect I feel a little vulnerable because this is ground I have never certainly never covered before - so if you have pearls of wisdom on how we figure all this out please let me know... In the meantime please sleep soundly knowing that despite the best efforts of my head my heart cries out for you, your voice, your body, the touch of your lips, the touch of your finger tips and an even deeper connection to your soul.

These are the words of the formerly AWOL Governor Stanford of South Carolina to his mistress, an Argentinian woman called "Maria." He claims he spent the last five days "crying in Argentina" with "my dear, dear friend." Time for the side-eye...

If by "crying" he meant "fucking" and if by "dear, dear friend" he meant "my good, good pussy," then yes, I would agree.

This is the same guy who as Congressman Stanford voted for President Clinton's impeachment, citing the need for "moral legitimacy." Loosk like it's not as easy to pass judgement when it's YOUR dick getting sucked.

Hypocritcal much?

Hercules! Hercules!

Regular sex with trannies and Johnny Gill is working for Miss Murphy!

I Don't Give a Shyt!!!

Is Dorion Standberry from College Hill gay? I DON'T GIVE A SHYT!!! Until yesterday, I didn't even know who the hell he was. Now that I am aware of him, still don't care. Even if there were pics of him getting his back dug out (evil wistful grin), I would be only mildly interested. As for whether he is gay or not, as Lisa Stansfield would say, "You can't deny it baby." This gurl has an AKA tattoo above his pubics. Is he about to SKEE-WEE up in here?

Are Jon and Kate and her awful, awful haircut getting a divorce? I DON'T GIVE A SHYT!!! It is fucked up though. How the hell are you gonna bring 8 children into the world AND THEN decide you don't want to be together. They should have their children taken away.

Is Ricky Martin gay? Although I don't really give a shyt, but CHILE CHEEZE.

JHud is dick-motized!

Le sigh...

Punk is a wrestler now. Yes, he went from Harvard Law, to I Love New York to professional restler. I can only assume that he must have the dick of life and JHud is so blinded by it that she can't see the train wreck coming down the road.

PS, total shocker that he chose a career that required him to be practically naked, oiled up and rolling around with other mostly naked men.

Gym Chronicles 061609

Over the past 15 months, without any effort other than dietary changes, I have lost 40 pounds. In fact, I am only 9 pounds away from my Adam4Adam weight!

Last week, I joined a gym, hoping to see accelerated results. There is a Ballys about 5 minutes from my house. The staff and clientele are almost exclusively black, which is good and bad.

I have some observations...

Ballys has a reputation in the DC metro area for being EXTREMELY cruisy. I used to belong to the location on L Street NW and it was madness. Open masturbation in the shower, dick sucking in the sauna. I saw two dudes fuck right out in the open in the shower area one Saturday morning. I have not seen any of that at Ballys at Hampton Mall (my gym, hereafter referred to as BHM). However there are signs that the atmosphere used to be MUCH more festive. There are a plethora of signs indicating proper dress, including swimwear, is required in the wet and dry sauna. I have noted that this is not the case in other gyms I have belonged to. The comments of the older members also indicate a more storied past, with one guy admonishing his friend to be careful in the steam room because "you know how they do."

As a man, I am an observer by nature. As a black gay man, I am an observer of dicks and asses and a gym is always a great place for such observation. I never forget, however, that I am there to WORKOUT, otherwise I am paying 40 bucks a month to look at dicks and asses and I can do that for free on the internet. As an observer, I notice the people and activities going on around me as I arrive at BHM, get changed and workout. I have noticed that some people come to the gym and never workout. I was at the gym today, getting dressed, when this guy I had conversed with a couple days before arrived. (Why was I talking with him, read on below.) He changed into workout clothes and immediately headed into the steam room. I thought nothing of it and proceeded with my workout. About 30 minutes into it, I noticed this dude dressed and leaving the gym. Did he just spend 45 minutes lurking in the locker room and bounce? Hmmm...

While I was working out, my eye fell upon a tall dark-skinned creature with a look and manner that screamed LADY!!! He was one of those kids who already had a big booty, but walks around with it pushed out even further, giving the effect of a two-legged horse. Miss Horse Booty flitted from the cross-trainer machines to the treadmill, but never actually doing anything. I finished my workout and went to the locker room. I decided to try out the dry sauna.

I typically avoid dry saunas, but this one was perfect. It was hot enough that I was sweating profusely, but not so hot that I felt like I was suffocating. As I entered the sauna there were 4 older black men in there having a conversation on some inane subject. Their facts were totally wrong, but the conversation was fun, so i just dashed right over it, chuckling and co-signing where appropriate. When Miss Horse Booty sauntered in, one of the men said, "There he goes, or she, or whatever. She done toned her ass down recently." It's interesting to me that many of the older men keep making homoobservantphobic comments. The frequency of them and tone indicate to me that if others were not around to see or hear about it, they would not be above letting Miss Horse Booty suck their dick or fucking her in that phat ass. It makes you say, HMMMMMM...

When I joined facebook, a young guy that I was peripherally aware of hit me up and started chatting me up. He is shorter and much thinner than me, which I totally liked, but I didn't really know much else about him. Eventually the conversation got personal, with him asking for various dimensions and capacities. When I told him how much I weighed he said he liked that, because he wanted some weight behind it when he was getting his back banged out. (OH MY!) I never followed up because I didn't really know him and frankly, I was already banging some other guy's back out. The second day at BHM, I saw him come into the gym. I had noticed a week or so earlier that his facebook profile indicated that he was in a relationship.

After my workout, I headed to the locker room and as luck would have it, his locker was in the same area as mine. He had a friend with him (the locker room lurker). Although I hadn't seen him workout at all, he was in the process of drying off. His towel dropped to reveal the most perfect round tite little ass in all of creation. I shuddered a little to myself, thinking how much fun I could have had pounding him into submission (did I just share too much?). I immediately hit him up on faceboook to explore how serious that relationship was, but he seemed non-committal at best. Perhaps he saw through my transparent attempt to get some of that ass now that I seen it in all its glory. What did I care? I had nothing to lose, which brings me to my final observation...

Going to the gym regularly is making me horny as hell.

More to come!

Speaking of Bukkake

Zachary Quinto loves it all over his face!

Does anyone else find this hot?

Spectacular - ly Gay

Whateva gur! Why are you abusing that chair?

Nice cakes

Lenny Kravitz and his amazing boogina!

My tongue is hard...

My Testimony

11 years and one month ago, I had a revelation...

March 26, 1998

…the time has come for me to face the truth. I am gay. Those three words have been in the back of my mind since I was 14 years old, but until today, I could never say them, even to myself. This can't simply be a stage I'm going through, because stages don't last for 13 years. This realization does not bring me any particular sense of peace or well being, but a sense of loneliness because it throws into chaos all the plans I have for my life.

I don't like going to gay clubs and standing around listening to house music all night long. I think most drag queens have deep-seated emotional issues and I would never be caught dead making a fool of myself at a gay pride parade. Gay pride is a misnomer for my life. I am neither proud nor ashamed of it. It is just who I am.

I have never felt so lonely as when I am in a room full of gay men. I feel no kinship with them. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing that we have in common is our sexual desire for men (real men, not effeminate male women). Other than that I am a completely average Black male.

How did I get here? When I am honest with myself, I spent the last 13 years in a fantasy world called Soon. Soon was that completely tangible, yet totally unknown day in the not-to-distant future when this stage of my existence would end. I kept thinking it would come next week, or in a month, or next year, but definitely by the time I was 18 or 21 or 25 or 30. Until today, I was always certain that it would come. Soon.

But Soon never came and now it's time I stopped bullshitting myself. Soon hasn't shown up yet and it probably never will. What the fuck am I going to do now? Soon provided the sufficient fiction on which I based everything in my life.

I know that eventually I will come to terms with my life, my mission and my place in the world. But right now, I feel completely and utterly lost…

At What Price Freedom?

from washingtonpost.com:

During his first days in detention, senior al-Qaeda operative Khalid Sheik Mohammed was stripped of his clothes, beaten, given a forced enema and shackled with his arms chained above his head, according to the International Committee of the Red Cross. It was then, a Red Cross report says, that his American captors told him to prepare for "a hard time."

Over the next 25 days, beginning on March 6, 2003, Mohammed was put through a routine in which he was deprived of sleep, doused with cold water and had his head repeatedly slammed into a plywood wall, according to the report. The interrogation also included days of extensive waterboarding, a technique that simulates drowning.

Sometime during those early weeks, Mohammed started talking, providing information that supporters of harsh interrogations would later cite in defending the practices. Former vice president Richard B. Cheney has justified such interrogations by saying that intelligence gained from Mohammed resulted in the takedown of al-Qaeda plots.

But whether harsh tactics were decisive in Mohammed's interrogation may never be conclusively known, in large part because the CIA appears not to have tried traditional tactics for much time, if at all. According to the agency's own accounting, Mohammed was waterboarded 183 times during his first four weeks in a CIA secret prison.

I assume the forced enema was so he wouldn't shit himself during the times when CIA operatives were repeatedly slamming his head into the wall or holding him under water until he almost drowned.

What did we gain from this treatment? According to the same article, the CIA alledges three specific success from this torture: the identification of alleged "dirty bomber" Jose Padilla; the discovery of a "Second Wave" attack targeting Los Angeles; and the break-up of the Indonesian Jemaah Islamiya cell, an al-Qaeda ally. Other CIA analysts and Obama administration officials dispute these successes, but assuming everything adds up, at what cost was this information obtained.

Well, we certainly can't say that the United States never tortured anyone in its care. Every statement by Bush and Cheney to the contrary is now shown to be a bold-faced lie. Now only did we torture this man, but we engaged in a systematic course of torture of detainees while failing to utilize any established methods of interrogation beyond saying, "Tell me what you know."

On some level, I have to be thankful that that the Dirty Bomb plot was uncovered. That plot involved detonating an explosive in downtown DC that would spread radiation, in addition to any immediate damage done by the blast. If the plot had been successful, I could be dead right now, or dying of radiation-induced cancer. I would rather that information have been obtained by more traditional techniques though.

I worry that this will put our soldiers and other operatives further in harm's way. After all, Al Qaeda operatives cut off people's heads in response to a cartoon depicting a Muslim religious figure. What will they do in retaliation for forced enemas, water-boarding and inflicted head trauma?

I do not envy President Obama's position. On the one hand, if he declines to prosecute those involves, it sends the signal to the world that the US condones these techniques, even while publicly disavowing them. If he seeks prosecution of those involved, including the former President and Vice-President, he risks fracturing the country in ways that might not heal for years or even decades.

The best way to avoid this predicament in the future is to ban these techniques entirely.

I'm back!!

Sorry for the sparseness of posts over the past several weeks. As you can see from the previous post, I bought a house. Err, actually, I will have bought it in a mere 360 monthly payments.

Home ownership is fun. You get to be on the phone with customer service people from Verizon and Comcast and the electric company and the water company who could give a shyt about your little slice of heaven and in fact, may be more than a little jealous. When you look at the lawn and think, "Someone needs to cut this grass," you realize that the someone in question is you. There are also lots of trips to home improvement stores. Every weekend since I closed I have been to Lowes and/or Home Depot at least once.

Sidebar... Must remember not to make eye contact with the latin men lingering on the edges of the parking lot at Home Depot. Although the atmosphere is definitely cruisy, they are cruising for work, not dick and ass. As a rule.

Other observations...

...Home security system salesmen are kinda pushy and not very cute

...The men are much more attractive in hood-adjacent transitional neighborhoods.

...The presence of a Whole Foods Market and a Harris Teeter are the hallmarks of a good neighborhood.

Jezebel's new home

My new car in front of my new house!
Originally uploaded by blkarkitect

Jezebel was feeling cold and lonelyin front of my apartment, so to make her feel better, I bought a house to park her in front of. Jezebel is so proud!

My new car!

My new car!
Originally uploaded by blkarkitect

Well, after 3 years without a working vehicle, I decided to treat myself to a new car for my birthday. Ladies, gentlemen and those who have yet to make a decision, meet Jezebel.

How far can you go down the road...

before its too late to turn back?

Chance Nalley, the man pictured above, is a 7th-grade school teacher in NYC who invited his students to hs commitment ceremony. That is a brave thing for him to do. Even better, many of his students, and their parents (largely black and hispanic) will attend. Wonderful! Oh, and Mr. Nalley identifies himself as bisexual.

(Cue record scratch) Really gurl?

Bisexuality is nothing more than a convenient waystation to gayness. It allows one to acknowledge one's admiration of the dick while proclaiming love of the pussy (at least in theory). Most so-called bisexuals are rarely seen with people of the opposite sex (hence the "in theory"). 

Well Miss Nalley (um... he has GAYFACE!!!!) is marrying a man, so why is he still calling himself bisexual. Honey, that train left a station a long time ago!

again, REALLY gurl!!!!

I have no sympathy for Paula Taylor

Dateline is doing a 3-part special about the mortgage crisis. They started the series with the story of Paula Taylor.

She was virtually homeless, living from day-to-day with different family members, and working as a personal trainer for $1600 a month, when Countrywide gave her a loan to buy a condo in Boston. Her monthly payment was $2100 a month. How could this be? 

Well regardless of any shady goings-on on the part of the bank, what part does personal responsibility play? Isn't it Paula's fault for signing on the dotted line when she knew she couldn't afford it?

I have no sympathy for her.

Madness!!!

"If you own guns in this country,

If you drink beer in this country,

If you go to tittie bars in this country,

then you're a bad person."

...The words of a self-professed redneck, who by his own admission, is not ready for a black president because he is "from the old school." 

The quote is taken from Right America: Feeling Wronged, a documentary by Alexandra Pelosi, the daughter of Nancy Pelosi.

We got alot of work to do

The Breakfast Song

LAWD

HAVE

MERCY!!!!

Hot or Not?

If you put your thumb over his face, 

he is definitely fuckable. 

Thank Gawd for doggy-style and paper bags.

As for this dude, i would fuck him until he vomits! 

It's the eyes!

Doing big things

Hello my little chickadees. There is alot going on in my universe that I can't talk about right now, but I promise to be back in a minute. BRB!

Racist, Insensitive or Both?

Looks like we will be playing this game for at least the next 4 years. The NY Post published this pictures recently and people are up in arms, including the Reverend Al Sharpton, who called the cartoon "troubling at best given the historic racist attacks of African-Americans as being synonymous with monkeys."

I have to admit, I am sometimes blind to racism, inasmuch as i don't look for it around every corner and behind every action. Until Rev. Al mentioned it, I just saw this cartoon as a play on the old saying about if you get enough monkeys in a room with tipewriters, one of them will write Shakespeare. I saw the cartoon as a comment on the monkeys in Congress, not as a reference to Obama.

I have said it before and I will say it again,we are going to have to start letting shit go, black people. We cannot continue to see the world only through the prism of our own real and imagined pain. I don't want to live in a world where everyone is on such eggshells about offending someone that public discourse dies.

Rev. Al, foul ball (ooo, look at me with the sports reference. How butch!)

That said, I am more offended by the use of the monkey as a joke. It is not AT ALL funny what happened to that woman when that chimp jumped on her. That animal belonged in a zoo and his owner should be facing some serious charges. She keeps referring to the chimp as her son and herself as its Mom. I always find people who anthropo-morphize their pets to be a little wierd and this takes the cake.

NY Post, that's a strike for extremely poor taste.

EX-Masturbator

This is the mos ridiculous shit I have ever seen or heard of.

What the hell is being delivered from the bondage of masturbation? There is NO SUCH THING!!! There is nothing wrong with masturbation. The only situation I can imagine where one might be in bondage to masturbation is if you can't stop doing it, or if you do it at inappropriate times and in inappropriate places. Even then, the problem is sexual compulsion and not the act itself.

I am disgusted by the fact that this group is wrapping itself in hip hop vernacular in an attempt to be cool. Masturbation is a perfectly natural expression of human sexuality. Just because one doesn't shout about it from the rooftops doesn't mean it's bad or wrong. We don't all talk about our bowle movements, but there is nothing wrong with having them.

And speaking of bondage, the narrator needs to be delivered from bad grammar.

We must deliver ourselves from the bondage of ignorance.

Aretha's Backup Singer

Craig's List Foolishness

Via Dudetube:

Guy who mugged me Sunday night - m4m - 26 (Jones and West St)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-1012830446@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-01-29, 3:09PM EST
I really thought your thuggish look was hot. Even though you took my wallet, which sorry bro it had no money in it, I thought about how hot it would be to play this scene again in my place, and you make me suck you off.
Tell me the name on my driver license so I know it's you!

Montgomery County Courthouse - m4m
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-1004802847@craigslist.org [?]
Date: 2009-01-23, 3:55PM EST
You were coming in as I was leaving. You had on a jumpsuit and cuffs, but I know you would have looked better without them! You seemed so sweet when we made eye contact. I've never done this before, but I MUST find you. 

Is dick worth all of that?

Today's Playlist

Music has always played a central part in my life so I am going to start including some of my favorite tracks. All of the links below are direct download from Rapidshare, in .AAC format (that's ITunes' preferred format). Enjoy!

Today... House/Club Music.

Family (Blaze Roots Remix) - This is the song "Family," from the movie Dreamgirls, set to a hot beat. The first time I heard this, I was at Blackout in Atlanta. We LIVED!!!

Women Beat Their Men - a NYC house classic by Submission. This is Cevin's Peak Hour Dub. If anyone has a longer version than this one (It's about 7 minutes) let me know.

Closer - Subkulcha House Remix - Ne-Yo produced a whole CD of remixes of his song Closer. This is one of my favorite mixes.

Loving is Really My Game - Remember that episode of Noah's Arc when Alex and company did that highly improbable impromptu drag number? This is the song they did. The group was called Brainstorm, featuring a pre-I Will Survive Gloria Gaynor.

Batucada - Latin Percussion Mix - A drum and bass classic.

Beautiful People (Masters at Work Mix) - Barbara Tucker

Strut (Liza Dub mix) - The legendary Kevin Aviance

You Don't Even Know Me - Armand Van Helden

I was there...

600am: The alarm on my cellphone goes off, just as Joe calls to drop off his tux for tonight's festivities. I question myself: Why the hell am I about to go stand out in sub-freezing weather for several hours? I could watch that shit on my brand new 47-inch LCD (LuCinDa the Younger) and be happy. Plus it's not like I was going to get anywhere close. I would most likely end up watching the whole thing on a jumbotron, which was in effect a giant TV. But I promised Joe and Paul I would go so I got out of bed.

700am: We leave the house and decide we might as well walk to the Mall. Joe informs us that the buses are running every 10 minutes so we walk to the Metro and catch the bus. We go about 7 blocks and then have to get out because traffic is at a standstill. We join the sea of humanity and walk slowly toward the Mall.

805am: Despite warnings about long lines for security and what not to bring, we walk right onto the Mall and manuever our way toward the closest jumbotron. We claim a spot by peeing on the perimeter and begin the long wait.

810am: Now, you know I don't really care for people, but I decided I would put my best face forward and go with the flow today. Luckily there was room to breather where we were.  My happy mood is spoiled by this woman from NYC who starts going on and on about how she prayed in this moment and God put on her heart to be here and something about  being "slain in the spirit." It all sounded like crazy talk to me so I was only half listening. She gave me a flyer and told me to come to her church next time I was in NYC. I wanted to tell her thtat I was too busy fuckin' and drinkin' whenever I was in Manhattan to go to church, but then I remembered my promise to be nice so I smiled a her and pocketed the flyer. Her name was Dr. Jacquelyn Sawyer

845am: We met a lovely family from Minnesota who came for the Inauguration and we became fast friends

930am: Bye Bye Miss American Pie!

1045am: Feed me Seymore!

What the hell was she thinking with that hat? Plus her voice sounded terrible.

1100am: The ceremony begins with introductions of various congressmen and senators and other dignitaries. Then they introduced the living former Presidents. The Carters were dignified and courtly as always. Does Rosalind Carter ever age? Happy, enthusiastic applause. I think she is the Evil Un-Dead. When did Bush Senior become a doddering old man? Remember when we thought this man was the worst thing this country had ever seen? Little did we know. Polite applause for the elderly. Oh! My! Gawd! Its THE CLINTONS!!!!!!! THUNDEROUS APPLAUSE! PS, I love the fact that Hillary now has to work for the man she campaigned so ferociousl against less than a year ago.

1115am: Everyone starts singing Darth Vader's theme when Dick Cheney is introduced.

1120am: A chorus of boos hails the introduction of Dubya.

1145: The Vice President is sworn in

1155: Some musical interlude with Yoyoma. They need to hurry this shit up, it's cold as hell out here. Wait a minute, that clarinet player is cute!

1210pm: We have a new President!!!!!

Remembered Pleasure II

My house burned down on Valentine's day, 2000. The effects of that night still linger with me to this day, but that is the subject of another post.

Valentine's Day 2000 was a Monday, so that Tuesday, a good friend of mine took me to a club called Wet. Those of you familiar with DC from back in the day know all about Wet, but for the newbies: Wet was a gay strip club that consisted of a u-shaped bar with showers at the back. At the time, strippers could be COMPLETELY naked (good times...). Tuesday was black night, so it was full of wannabe thugs, butch queens and not-so-butch queens, DL brothas and gurls who called themselves DL, but were betrayed by arched eyebrows and clear lacquered nails and of course, regular, upstanding citizens like me. The place screamed with sexual energy and many a frustrated brotha made the short journey from the Wet, down a few blocks to Glorious Health and Amusements (affectionately known as The Glory Hole) for relief. Of course, as a Christian woman, I never made that journey more than once or twice a month.

Sadly, all of that is gone now, replaced by a baseball stadium and office buildings. In fact the building I work in sits on top of what used to be Tracks. Anyhoo...

It was into this warm, dark and moist space, full of sexual possibilities, that I was dragged the day after Valentine's Day. I could still smell the smoke and when I closed my eyes, I could hear my father's screams (He survived and is fine now). I posted up in the corner with a cocktail, paying the whole situation DUST. Gradually I became aware of a brotha giving me the eye, so I gave as good as I got.

He was short, about 5'-6" (Me likey!), clear dark chocolate brown skin, beautiful lips and eyelashes so long they almost looked fake. His approach was at once submissive and aggressive and I was instantly turned on. We chatted for the rest of the night as he told me his life story. He had just gotten out of the Army and was here in DC trying to decide what to do next. He had a habit of standing inside my personal space which I found intoxicating.

Since I was staying in a hotel with my sister, we arranged to meet the next night. We had dinner and some really good convo. He was sympathetic to my situation without making me feel pitied. He was submissive to my wants and desires, but aggressive in keeping the objective of where we would end up clearly on the table. As we drove back to the hotel, he stroked my hand and believe me, a brotha was feeling it.

We couldn't go back to my room, so he got another room in the hotel and wouldn't you know it, we ended up right next door. My sister was asleep on the other side of the wall. That did not stop us from working that room out.

Out of his clothes, he was muscular tank of a man, just hairy enough to run your fingers through. He was a great kisser, hell he was good with his mouth everywhere, and I do mean EVERYWHERE. Everything about him turned me on, especially the way he reacted whenever I touched his ass. I would stroke his hairy asscheeks with my fingers and he would moan in pleasure, so you can only imagine what happened when I fingered him. When I was eating him out, I had to make him bury his face in the pillow to keep from making too much noise (lest we forget my sleeping sister in the next room).

At some point, I had licked and fingered him until he couldn't stand it anymore. He looked back at me over his shoulder and said, "I wanna feel you inside of me." Baby, I almost came right then and there. I fucked that boy all over that hotel room; on the bed, on the dresser, in the shower, on the floor. We went through 8 condoms over the next day. And once again, we broke the headboard. That's how you know you are doing it right!

As I left him the next morning, I was floating on air despite my situation. Despite the death of my mother, my house burning down and my father ending up in the burn unit, all I could think about was that I had met someone who could be THE ONE.

Well, gentle readers, as Anita Baker once sang...

My story ends, as stories do,
Reality steps into view.
No longer living life in paradise,
Or fairy tales

I came back to the hotel room that night, to find THE ONE in bed with 3 other dudes and he wanted me to join in. The man, this beautiful man, whom I thought was THE ONE, turned out not be so exceptional after all. He was a beautiful, but common, whore. I won't lie, I was crushed for almost six months a hot minute, but I got over it.

After feeling what I was feeling, I couldn't participate in that 5-way, but time allowed me to see that I was in a very vulnerable space when I met him, so I let it go and we became good friends. That didn't stop me from feeling a little smug satisfaction when I found out several years later that he got fired from his job and Ben and Jerry's for whoring.

It seems he had a habit of picking up trade from the bar and bringing them back to the shop where he worked for a little cream-making of his own. One of the queens who worked in the shop tried to hit on him and when he was rejected, reported him to management. He was caught, in flagrante delicto, and fired on the spot.

Speaking of 7-figure settlements...

Sheree Whitfield, our favorite looka-lika-man, got gooped by her ex-husband in her divorce settlement. Per the Atlanta Journal Constitution:

Bob and Sheree Whitfield separated after three years of marriage in 2003 and divorced after seven in 2007. … The trial court awarded her custody of the children and $2,142.87 a month in child support. It also awarded her a division of the marital property totaling more than $1.1 million and including a lump sum payment of $775,000. It gave her half of the maritalportion of three NFL retirement plans. But the court did not award alimony.

The court awarded him nearly all the real estate, including four homes, and the recording studio, Patchwerks, which he founded. Her lawyers moved for a new trial over the denial of alimony. The lower court deniedthe motion, and she now appeals to the Supreme Court.

In filings, her lawyers have portrayed her as a high school graduate with limited skills and income potential. Shocker!

When you look at it, she didn't get shit. $2142.87 a month for 2 kids? That's only a little more than a grand a month. I am sure whatever private school she has them costs way more than that. Plus she only got a million dollar settlement. That is certainly not the seven figure sum she wanted. Looks like She by Sheree is sh-done.