Music makes me sad

My vampires have an invitation I can never take back. Emboldened, they follow me in broad daylight. The boogeyman sits in the passenger seat of my Kia. Hiding under the bed only promised a temporary scare.

Music uplifts people. And it's ubiquitous. You can't escape music if you tried.

...There's too much to run from. Every song is our song. So I sit on the shore and listen as they come in waves. Sometimes they lap my feet. Sometimes they wash me away. Today I am drowning.

Today, I cried

Just moments before, I was proud that I'd finally gotten to work early. For some reason, this is a Herculean feat for me.

Then I blew my lead. I rounded the corner to the parking lot and crumbled. 9:45 a.m., and already a lot had taken place. Each incident was another tick, leading to this moment of implosion.

As I was packing my lunch, my roommate's cousin began trying to converse with me. It was fine for a minute, but when he got down to inquiring about the toppings I was putting on my salad, my patience wore thin. "This dude is forcin' it," I thought ... But then, it was actually kinda sweet. When's the last time someone wanted to converse with me so bad that they looked for any small window to break into? He recently said some very nice things to me, and although I wished those words had come from someone about whom I felt the same, I asked the Lord for the grace to manage the situation without hurting his feelings.

Minutes later, I stopped by Starbucks. Everyone has a favorite barista, right? I hadn't seen mine in a minute, but he was there today. Yes, he. Need I say more?

So yeah, small talk, yada, yada, yada. Then, "Thank you, have a good day." Happy to see him. Not happy to be just another customer. You get me?

But I drove to work and thought about it. And Fantasia was on my radio singing, "If you don't want me then don't talk to me/Go ahead and free yourself." And I realized I wasn't actually terribly interested in that (cute) guy. Or any other guy out here. I had a cute guy at home ... I didn't want him. I didn't treat him like I wanted him. He still stuck around. He still wanted me. He got smart though. He doesn't anymore. And as these things often go, I can tell you several big mistakes I've made in my life. I would put that one first.

Love is grace. If it often something we don't deserve and didn't earn. The least we can do is appreciate it.

And so I cried. I sat in the parking lot, and bawled. And wished that hindsight wasn't 20/20. 

Love sick

I got what I asked for.

Unfortunately, I don't want it -- has that ever happened to you?

It actually hurts a lot. I'm not sure how to determine if this is the pain of regret, those necessary pangs they call "growing pains" or the pain of realizing that I made a significant mistake.

Cliches, like stereotypes, are rooted in truth. That "grass is greener thing"? Man, I tell ya.

I think there are a lot of people walking around carrying pain. This is why little things cause them to lash out. Don't flatter yourself - it wasn't your singular act that pushed them over the edge; it was compounded with the sh*t they're already trying hard to ignore. Or handle. Or push through. Or heal from.

I have no idea of the best way to work through pain. Some say to just let time pass. Get busy, immerse yourself in other activities. Be productive, learn a new skill, get a hobby. Others say you have to face it head on and analyze what happened so you can learn from it. I've attempted both.

And here I am, at work, 1:55 a.m....on the verge of tears. They've been welling up for three months.

Couples

Do y'all watch this series?


I love it. If you've ever cohabitated, I think you'll find "The Couple" webseries just as funny as I do, in that observational humor kind of way. This is the trailer for Season 2, but I'm sure you've seen this. They just lead me to my larger point:

A friend today brought up the issue of why couples won't do certain things for each other. Sexually.

I think these are the two sides of this coin:

1. If you aren't in a relationship with someone, you don't care what they think. This allows you to be less inhibited. i.e., this is why people hook up on vacations and whatnot. If it's a purely selfish and short-lived act, you don't mind going for it; doing whatever, doing those "you only live once" sorts of things.

2. HOWEVER, if you do care about your mate, perhaps there's some complacency, but maybe there are things you won't do because of insecurity. They know your hangups, they've seen you at your worst ... maybe there's something less sexy about that? Familiarity breeds contempt?

Now, many couples have amazing wild monkey sex, so I'm told. BUT I do think there are many people (men) who could say they've gotten strangers to do things their partners would never do.

YES? NO?

(I won't tell)

World's Most Shallow Roommate

My roommate, who is pregnant, comes back from the hair salon yesterday with weave to her ankles and fuzzy fake caterpillar eyelashes.

(AN ASIDE: Typically pregnant women are told to avoid chemical-heavy environments such as salons. Roommate, who is selectively half-Asian, dismisses this as "black people shyt.")

"Your hair is pretty!" I say.

"Uh huh," she says.

Not, "Thank you." Nope. Why fake basic humility?

She says, "People know me at the airport so I had to look like how they're used to seeing me."

...Didn't know I was living with an airport celebrity. Gotta stunt on the TSA peons, huh?

Today I Learned

James 1: 27 (NIV)

²⁷ Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

Today I learned that religion is action. It is:

1. Helping those who can't help themselves, taking care of people -- such as widows and orphans -- who are in need of love and care.

AND

2. Keeping yourself pure. This perhaps, is my new year's resolution, if you will. Increasingly, I feel the world is too noisy. I love media and entertainment, industries where this is especially true. But it takes wisdom and focus to appreciate or consider these things without allowing them to "pollute" you. And actually, it seems these two directives dovetail. I imagine that with unpolluted vision, it would be easier for me to recognize those I can "look after."

I don't think God will ask me if I had a drink last Saturday or if I went to church every Sunday. But I'm certain He will judge if I've done these two simple things to the best of my ability.

Today I learned, I've got work to do.

Turns out You Can Keep a Pimp Down

Tuesday in LA was one of those days I'd hoped to have when I moved here. It started on a music video set and ended at a free comedy show -- with barely a handful of other people present -- seeing some comedians I'd never heard of before ... and likely may not hear from again.

Then the host said, "Coming to the stage next, we got Katt Williams."

I looked around like, WTF did he say? Not even a grand introduction, just Katt Williams next. Listen, the entire audience was scared when he first came out. We had no idea what to expect.

Katt Williams is one of the few people I'd always wanted to see in person.

Then I heard he'd retired. Then I heard he'd led police on a high speed chase on a three-wheeled motorcycle. Then I saw him slap a cashier at Target. They said he had guns in the airport, they said he tried to fight a fan and got booed off stage. They said one of his kids got taken away. And so on ...

After watching him perform last night, I'm here to tell you I don't know what is true.  The hard press was gone. The neat goatee and suit were gone. This man had on a Captain America tee shirt, sweatbands, gold watches, a chunky beaded necklace and a beanie with the sensor on the back. His face. It was like seeing your favorite uncle after he'd been away for a long time and realizing he was not the same person you saw and loved before.

Katt denied most of these rumors, and he gave us the side we had not yet heard -- his. Katt Williams was honest, endearing, confusing and raw. I can't say that he "performed" a set. He wasn't exactly telling jokes. He was seeking refuge, maybe. Sometimes the stuff he said was funny. Sometimes it was reckless. But I do know that he bore his soul to us.

At times, he got down on his knee, looked you right in the face and said, "M'am" - then went on with the point. It was just that intimate.

He spent a lot of time talking about how much money he has, how much weed he smokes, how many women he sleeps with. He told us Jamie Foxx is gay and the man he slept with is Marcus Anthony, the singer on his record label. He said in Chapter 13 of his autobiography, Richard Pryor said he slept with Paul Mooney. Then it got real. He told us he was homeless, and the people he met there were once very successful men who lost everything because of drug use. "I never saw the happy, party side of cocaine," Katt said, so I would never want to use any drug like that. I believe him.

He said he proposed to a woman recently. She didn't say no, but she didn't say yes, either (which is the same as saying no.) "Because I loved her, I didn't make her say it. I just left her alone. But I think it's significant that I felt that way about her." We agreed.

He said was in prison and the Marine Corps. He said he's trained to kill people. I believe him. He said Kevin Hart has six writers, and he was sad that we were laughing at Kev now cuz he thought we loved him. Above all, that was the theme of the night.

Katt Williams thought we loved him. Then he read our comments on the blogs. He realized that fame and love are not the same thing. He realized that "fans are fickle," and we don't really care about the details of his life, about his kids and things like that.

He seemed surprised to find this out.

Katt Williams seems insecure and lonely. He has all the money he could ever need and sees no value in it. He does not know who to trust. And he thought we loved him.

At the end of the night, as I walked back to my car, a man ran past us and said, "Good evening ladies, thank you for coming." I said, "Good night, Katt Williams."

Then it hit me. I turned around. I yelled, "Katt Williams!"

He turned around. I said, "Thank you."  I held open my arms, and I said, "Thank you."

He got down on one knee and bowed deeply -- in the middle of the intersection.

And I hoped that a genuine show of appreciation might from a fan might mean something to him again.

A Fresh Set of Downs

I'm a dweller.

I worry; I agonize; I stew -- rinse and repeat.

Sometimes I don't make the impression I'd hoped to. Sometimes I get to work and don't knock every task out the park. I take it hard. 
The concept of 'keep it moving' is hard for me to execute. But if you've ever had a stretch where you were taking knocks faster than you could learn the lessons from them, you know you can't afford to dwell.

I admire men for that, their seeming innate ability to just move on. It's counterproductive to go into Tuesday still worried by what happened Monday; I know that. Today, especially, I find myself in a situation I can't afford to let linger.

And more than my morning email from Joel Osteen, more than my inspirational Spotify playlist, what's helping me move forward and try to make something of this day is football. There's a lot to be gleaned from the sport. Teams go through intense preparation throughout the week for one game. They get to the stadium with one actuality hanging overheard: One team will win. The other will lose. Someone, despite their best effort, is going to lose.

If they worried about each "L" like I do, there's no way they could make a career of it!

So in that spirit, I can't worry about the last snap. There's a fresh set of downs in front of me.

A fresh set of downs. Every morning is First and 10.

Gotta move the chains, yo.

What I Know for Sure #6.3

Life is a whole lot easier when you wake up in the morning feeling beautiful.

"Scandal"ous

DevaDonna loves television.

So much so, that I found a site that lets me read the scripts for shows that premiered this season and in many years past.

I read the pilot for the ABC show "Scandal" and noticed that our protagonist, played by Kerry Washington, was named Olivia Prince.

Now, in the iteration that made it to air, her last name was changed to Pope. I wondered why that was.

A clever new colleague happened to be discussing why he doesn't like the show, and he said:

"I know it's small, but I don't like that her last name is Pope. She is having an affair with the President, so there is supposed to be separation between church and state..."

AHA!

I don't know if her name was changed to Pope for that reason or not - I'm not even sure if many of us were savvy enough to pick up on that -- but I actually think it's a cute, cheeky convention.

Do you think it's corny?

Calling All Prayer Warriors

Can we please petition God for another television show for Kevin James so he can stop doing movies like this? #StruggleLife



Is King of Queens not syndicated? Did he not get a back-end deal? If you get residual checks, you shouldn't have to do things like this:



OR THIS:



(And don't you try to tell me, "Paul Blart wasn't that bad!")
When you bow your heads tonight, send one up for Kevin James. At this point, I think even taking up knitting would make him a more productive citizen...

The Mindy Project

I don't watch "The Office."

But I do read trade publications about Hollywood, and it became quite clear this fall pilot season that the critics were checking for Miss Mindy Kaling and her new FOX show, "The Mindy Project." I was happy to see a woman of color in a starring role, and the concept of her viewing her life as a romantic comedy was interesting to me.

 Entertainment Weekly described it this way:

"If you’ve been waiting for the perfect ob-gyn office-set romantic comedy, Mindy Kaling hopes to deliver something special on your television Tuesday night: In Fox’s The Mindy Project (Fox, Tuesday, 9:30 p.m.), the former star/executive producer of The Office plays Mindy Lahiri, a highly skilled gynecologist whose romantic life is in need of urgent care."

My take? Um...it's straight. Episode 2 was better than episode 1. I'm hopeful Episode 3 will be better than the previous one. Etc, etc.

The bone I have to pick is that the description just doesn't seem accurate. So far, Mindy seems pretty lucky. She is neurotic, puts her foot in her mouth often, rambles and doesn't mind giving up the cookies real easy. But no one's turned her down yet. In short, Mindy gets play. So what's wrong with her love life?

Beyond that, it's all from educated, well-to-do white men. I HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE seen a guy who looks like Seth Meyers strolling down the street with a girl who looked like Mindy. In this "post-racial" society, I still have not seen sandy blonde, blue-eyed, camping-skiing-rock climbing All-American men with chunky, brown Indian women.  And especially, the hunky British guy in the office (who would be the object of everyone's affections) would not have been begging her to take the D on the first day!
Granted, just because I  haven't seen it does not mean it doesn't exist. But the lack of realism from where I sit makes it harder for me to buy into the show.


Romantic comedies are full of women who can't get the guy. The heroine's missteps provide the humor, and her seemingly unrequited crushses are what make her endearing. But that's not what I'm getting from "The Mindy Project." However, I will continue to give it a chance, just like I do with "Scandal." Oops - did I just call out "Scandal"?  Yeah, I said it.

At any rate, it's your world, Mindy. Dream it how you live it!

"Turn on the Lights"

After the entire summer passed, I grew to accept this for the ratchet love song it truly would like to be.

But there were some hurdles I had to jump to get here:

The abusive use of autotune cannot disguise that it sounds like Future is trying to sing while battling throat cancer. But never mind that.


Never mind that he is not on beat for the entire second verse. The melody compels me to keep listening, somehow. Luv to the producer.   My biggest issue was the first 30 seconds.
Literally, stop it at 00:27.

Yo, WHAT did he say?

"Is that her in the VIP line, with the V-tine, and the Ees-Sarant?"

I'd look over to my imaginary passenger and ask, Did he say V-time? What the hell is that? And what is ees sarant? I was so disturbed I had to Google the lyrics. Apparently this fool was saying Vuitton and Yves Saint Laurent.

I guess he had to create sum kinda country contraction to make it fit. I don't know. But what I do believe is, this is why they try to keep certain labels away from us.

What I Know For Sure 2.3

White people all think they are your boss.

Even the ones who are younger than you. And the ones who are dumber than you. Even the ones fixing your sandwich at Jimmy John's. Yep, all of 'em.

What I Know For Sure 1.1

When *people* start a sentence with:

• "In the future,"
• "Going forward," OR
  
• "It's not a big deal"

 Rest assured that what follows the clause will piss you off.

Also, when these same *people* start a sentence with "Reason being," said reason will be produced from between their buns. But ya know, they're an authority on everything, so they expect you to cash it like a check.

I plan to gift you with more golden wisdom like this, as it is revealed to me from on high.

What I Know For Sure 0.1

White girls hate me....

......But they are fascinated by my hair.

Why Men Marry Bitches Who Think Like A Man

In my younger days, I read a book called "Why Men Love Bitches."

Actually, the complete title is "Why Men Love Bitches: From Doormat to Dreamgirl - A Woman's Guide to Holding Her Own in a Relationship (by Sherry Argov)."  See figure below:

 

Perhaps in 2002, the advice Ms. Argov dispensed was revolutionary. From what I remember, she basically took 300 pages to say to women, 'Get a life and keep a life, even after you get a man.'

You're welcome; I just saved you about a week of reading time. For some reason, I recently decided to borrow the sequel "Why Men Marry Bitches" from my friend. It has taken me three months to read two chapters. This must be because it's a pretty corny and annoying book.

I realized very quickly into Argov's book that she was telling me how to play games. Um, Sherry, I like to watch games, not play them.  I avoid situations where I'd have to implement a 60-day plan, a 90-day rule or a wait-3-days-then-call-and-don't-respond-to-texts-first guideline. That's too much damn work! I closed the book because I'm not cut out for courting rituals that require me to one-up a man to "catch" him and "reel him in." You like me or you don't. No head games necessary.

Yes, I caved in and read Steve Harvey's "Act Like A Lady, Think Like A Man." Again, it was some straight-up common sense that has somehow grossed that man many thousands of dollars. SMH @ the women of the world! 

Next month a love coach named Paul Carrick Brunson, whom I follow on Twitter - and who appears on the OWN show "Lovetown, USA" - will be releasing a book titled "It's Complicated (But It Doesn't Have to Be): A Modern Guide to Finding and Keeping Love." Now that's a dating book I'd read, simply because I agree with the premise. Most of the "advice" we receive is a bunch of crap because love is simple. Corinthians 13 has it covered. Plus, when a guy really likes a woman, his choices seem to defy all logic. YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!

• They say not to be clingy. I know some clingy, needy, desperate women that are getting engaged and married right now.
• They say not to have sex on the first date. I hear this is only a problem for black men. Some people are married to folk that were first-night smashes.
• They say to be independent and have your own everything. That's cool, but these millionaire men are out here snatching up nannies, waitresses and yoga teachers.  
• And so forth, and so on. 

 I'm not mad at the hustle. If people are willing to listen to your advice, go head and make money off of them! All I'm saying is, I'll know it's right because it will just work - no playbook required!

Sh!t's Not Real Enough Yet

I have friends who can go out and barely spend a dime. Meanwhile, I need a drink or two along with my  meal and appetizer.

Lesson 1: Alcohol ain't cheap.
Lesson 2: Especially if at a chain restaurant, the food won't even taste that good.
Lesson 3: And it's likely overpriced for the portion size.

I've long admired those who have the ability to "live on less." Though I know discipline is needed in these times, I've tended to act out in rebellion. "I still deserve to enjoy myself," I say, as I indulge in some vice that only briefly makes me feel better, if at all.

A mentor who was applauding himself for finally getting out of credit car debt paraphrased the tough journey by saying he wound up paying hundreds of dollars in interest - on top of the price tag -  for stuff he can't even remember buying in the first place...yeah, that sounds about right.

Yesterday I spent $22 on accessories when all I wanted was a headband to cover my edges. I wanted a blazer (I'll need it for my future job, I reasoned) and some shorts (for next summer!) as well, but those damn earrings cost way too much, and they were final sale. I immediately felt all kinds of buyer's remorse. I sat down for lunch and was so mad that I didn't have the discipline to tell myself NO for once.
Note: Such remorse is unusual. It usually comes only after making emergency purchases such as a new car battery, or purchases for others, such as cat food.

And then it hit me: Earlier I'd been chiding my sister for having a sh*tty job and not trying to find a better one. "Sh*t's not real enough for her," I said.
Because she still has the luxury of mommy and daddy footing the big bills - and helping her in-between - the situation isn't dire enough for her to actively pursue something else. And whilst I was beholding the mote in her eye, I wasn't considering the beam in my own. 

I have a shopping problem. And it's only a problem because I buy these items with credit, which means I really can't afford them at all. Until recently, I've always had good credit, so getting another card wasn't an issue. But if I didn't have the luxury of a card, how would I purchase these items? Exactly: I wouldn't. I need to get just that real with myself. If I don't have physical dollars and coins, I don't have it. And I KNOW I'm only hurting myself in the long run. When you knowingly continue to do things that are deleterious, that makes you an addict. It's not crack, it's not liquor, but it's harmful to my financial health and well-being. I am putting myself further at a disadvantage with every receipt I rack up, and as someone who claims to hate being in debt, that just doesn't make sense.

They say admitting your problem is the first step. So I'm owning it. And while I really believe in buying stuff before I need it so I can stay ready for 'come what may,' I have to challenge myself to live on what I make...not what I hope I'll make later so I can pay for it then.  

*Deep Breath* This isn't going to be easy....

LOOK MA! I'm in ESSENCE!(.com)

SO thanks to the power of Facebook, I responded to a call and was able to squeak out a column for ESSENCE.com. I am so happy that I was given this opportunity. It (and the subsequent support I've received) were certainly the highlight of my week!

Curly Commentary: 'My Boyfriend Encouraged Me To Go Natural'

The hair on my head has been permed, bleached, mohawked, braided, fried, dip-dyed and weaved. A look at the so-called “Photos of You” on Facebook is misleading. I’ve had so many different looks you can’t tell it’s the same girl!

It’s not that I love switching up the game. The reality is I grew up despising my hair. While my sisters had fine hair that turned to springy curls when water was applied, mine required frequent “pressing” with the hot comb and regular visits to the salon for taming. When those roots grew back in, baby, there was nothing I could do about it! I hated that my hair was kinkier than my sister's and I tried every style in the book in rejection of the texture I was given. In 2008, I started dating a young man I’d met in high school. He and I had mutual crushes on each other back then, but didn’t pursue anything until I returned home to Detroit after attending college in Florida. One thing was different about him from the start: he loathed my weave.

To be honest, I did too. It never came out the way the stylist said it would, never looked like the magazine picture I’d cut out or the girls I saw on the street. Before the month was over, I’d be ripping it out in frustration and surprisingly, my boyfriend would help me do that, too. He’d be right in the bathroom with the scissors, cutting out the tracks I couldn’t see and begging me to wear my real hair.

“Babe, I just hate that you spend hundreds of dollars on a hairdo just to take it out in two weeks,” he’d say.

“If my hair did what I wanted it to do, I wouldn’t have to do this,” I’d always yell back. My boyfriend explained that his hair wasn’t always curly either. But he took the time to find products that worked with his texture. He told me I could train my hair if I was just patient.

In 2010, I decided to transition. Managing the two textures was tough and I decided the only way I could see my true texture was to start over. One day I announced, “For my 25th birthday I'm cutting my hair. It's gonna look just like yours.” My boyfriend wasn’t even fazed. His reply? “I don't care. I don't have ‘Long Hair Syndrome.’" That wasn’t the response I was expecting. I stood there confused until he explained, “I love you, not your hair.”

While I pride myself on being independent, the idea of going natural was intimidating. My big chop was a huge adjustment, but his support eased my fears and still helps me hold my head high on those can’t-get-my-hair-right days.

As my teeny weeny afro — and my comfort level — grows, he’s there cheering me on. When I did my first twist-out, he was genuinely impressed and told me how good it looked. Recently, I got in the car on a wash-and-go day and with the biggest smile he said, “Look at those curls! They are banging today! I told you it would happen!” 

 

He did, and I’m glad I listened.

In Praise of Steebie J

Alright, I'll go ahead and say it. I mess with Joseline from the Vh1 show "Love and Hip Hop Atlanta."

Is she a ratchet side piece who doesn't know her place? Yes.
Is she a strip-ho? Yes, and usually they automatically get a credit score of -000.

Buuuuttttt I like this chick. Damnit. This contradicts so many other posts from me, but my educated homegirl and I have discussed that she just might be the realest woman on that farce of a show, and if you know DevaDonna, real recognize real is the motto.

Now, please allow me to defend my position with specific and accurate facts.

1. Joseline's body is on point. She paid for the tatas, she said it, and I usually give demerits for falsies. But they're a prop. Her parents were poor immigrants who don't speak English (which is likely why Joseline can't either. I mean, really, would a cat raised by dogs still purr? Who knows, just throwing that out there), her brother has autism and she was doing what she had to do to help pay the mortgage. Yes, the mortgage. And his medication. Everybody has a damn sob story, I know. So what, her body is still enviable. She looks like a track runner, and them b!tches iz bad. Allegedly, she's working on a fitness DVD. Am I gonna cop it? Sh*t yeah.

2. She contradicts herself often when it comes to Steebie, but there are flashes of clarity. For instance, in one episode she met with a manager or somebody without Stevie's knowledge. The girl said, "Steebie don't make or break me." I respected that! She is determined to make it with or without his help, leading us to believe she is not just effin' for tracks. Now, two days after that she'll be in somebody's magazine talking about how she does whatever her daddy tells her to do...but show me one woman who hasn't been stuck on stupid over a man.

3. Joseline was on the radio in Detroit on Sunday talking mad tough. She said, "I am an international pop goddess, and I'm standing by that." She went on to say that she is a dream catcher, and she is always going to catch her dreams. At the end of the day, she is going to go get everything she wants out of life. Forget what people say, Joseline thinks Joseline has talent. She also has a giving heart. On the radio she said she was giving bottles and money to the baddest girls in the club because "times are hard out here. If I can help pay a light bill or whatever, Ima do it. It's nothing to me." (Did she swag on that azz a little bit right there? OK, but "how do players play? Every day, all day.") She doesn't hate on other women, and encouraged all of us to realize "we run the show."

Above all, THAT is why I like her. She has unshakable confidence. She believes in herself. She has enough self-esteem to package and sell it to the rest of us, and I honestly admire that. So go ahead, clown me if you want. And be honest: every straitlaced person has a ratchet idol or alter ego. Who's yours?

Money Can't Buy Common Sense

"For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?"
-Mark 8:36

 I tend to think of this verse when celebs do dumb sh*t, as they often do. In all of our idol worship, have we considered that while these people put incredble effort into their crafts, much less attention is paid to their character? Unfortunately, they don't have to - being rich is a license to do what you want to do.

However, the rules aren't necessarily the same for everyone, and my heart aches when I see that the Boo-Boo the Fool being trashed today on the blogosphere is a black, male athlete. It's like watching a horror movie, when you see someone going into the house instead of running away from it. You scream, "Don't you know how this ends?"

Yes, this is spurred by the announcement that the Miami Dolphins released wide receiver Chad Johnson a day after he was arrested for allegedly headbutting his publicity-starved wife of one good month, Evelyn Lozada. One day. He didn't get an investigation. He didn't get the PR statement that most teams immediately give to the media, "We will reserve comment until the details become clear." Nope, they just cut his silly ass. Why can't these children seem to remember that race trumps talent, no matter how many catches, carries or yards they get? Oh, you thought it was different because you don't wear a suit and go to corporate America every day? Nope, the music's still playing. Tap dance, you must.

Now, to be fair, Chad was on his last  leg after a not-so-productive season with the Patriots, plus, he's getting up in age - at 34! But his incident follows an offseason where several members of the Detroit Lions managed to get arrested twice.  Too busy being young and rich I guess to be concerned with such details as calling a driver service instead of driving drunk. Or leaving the marijuana at home, not taking it along for a midnight ride through the suburbs of The D. 

Some people are above the law. Ask Ben Roethlisberger. (And Charlie Sheen, sidebar.) But some are not - namely, the 67 percent of his black colleagues in the NFL.  Ask Michael Vick. You won't see a game where his arrest and prison time aren't mentioned. The asterisk will forever be by his name.

But sometimes I just feel sorry for them. Because the truth is, these men are overcomers. They tend not to come from private schools and the upper echelon of society.  I watch the documentaries, I read the profiles. Many of these young men fight their way to the league to get out of their deplorable surroundings. However, as the saying goes, you can take a person out the hood, but you can't take the hood out the person. Imagine that overnight you go from being hungry to being a millionaire.  You know how you go all day without eating, then go to the buffet and stuff yourself silly? Translate that to a world of fame, women, drugs and other vices you can indulge in without anyone telling you no. The candy store is bigger. The prizes are shinier.

A football player called me once in high school. I answered the phone as I was raised to do, "Praise the Lord." That was essentially the beginning and ending of the conversation. But somehow he managed to tell me before the hang up that he didn't believe in God because the streets were all he knew. All he saw was his mom struggling and people getting killed. Football was going to be his way out...I'm sure he's not the only one who thinks like this.

Money doesn't change people; it amplifies who they really are. If  you are selfish, you'll just be more selfish with money. If  you lack discipline, money will support your gluttony. And if, perchance, you are rough around the edges and not used to having anything, money will NOT automatically give you class. Paychecks don't come with instructions on how to spend them properly (other than to not sign below that hash line on the back.) I see a lot of good people trying to survive, yet other people get blessings they aren't equipped to handle.

The sad fact is sometimes these men have it all - money, endorsements, houses plural, cars plural, a model/actress on their arms...and not a bit of sense. That's a problem football can't fix.

On a Lighter Note

  

In 15 days, a Detroit man gambled away $1.5 million. Let me say that again. This (un)lucky man found that when he went to the ATM, the machine gave him WHATEVER amount of money he requested.

In a little more than two weeks, he withdrew 1-point-5 million dollars. And gave all that damn  money right back to the casino!

Part of it wasn't his fault. Apparently, a bank error changed his type of account to one that allowed unlimited access to money. Whether at an ATM or at the window at one of the city's three casinos -- yes, for some reason, we have 3 casinos in like a 2-mile radius -- he found that he could take out three-figure sums each time. But just because you can, doesn't mean you should.

Personally, I know Bank of America is the devil. So they deserved it. And why didn't some type of red flag alert them that this fool took out a million bucks in 15 days? Isn't that excessive? (Y'all catch me if I'm two pennies over my limit. You couldn't tell this man only had like a couple hundred dollars in his account?)

Prosecutors recommended 15 months in prison because they believe Page had a lapse of judgment and the bank was at fault for allowing this to happen.

So even as they acknowledge they were at fault, ever-so-gracious Bank of America is still trying to send the man to prison. If they want the money back, we know where it is - just take it from the casinos! As for our friend, let me be his lawyer. I guarantee if he looked a little different, they'd be recommending rehab for his serious gambling addiction.  Set Ronald Page free!

What Would Make an Honor Student do This?

 Watching the news is an activity I usually avoid because of the countless nonsensical stories. This one is no exception:

A 16-year-old honor student from a suburb of Detroit was supposed to take her final exams this week.

Instead she was in court today facing charges of armed carjacking.

Allegedly, she and two other girls ran up on a woman and her 3-year-old son. But the "star student" -- with no previous record -- was the one who is accused of this:

"This individual put a handgun to the head of the woman's 3-year-old son and said, 'I'll shoot his ass,'" said the judge hearing the case.

I need to understand what makes a teenage girl decide to go out and attempt armed robbery. What part of that sounds like fun? Where did she get the gun and what kind of homegirls encourage you to do this for leisure?

You can read the whole story at http://www.clickondetroit.com/news/news/16-year-old-Southfield-girl-accused-of-armed-carjacking/-/4714498/14807086/-/auwx9gz/-/index.html

I go to Lunch to Take a Break...

Got a text from a friend recently who was ashamed to admit he'd avoided sitting with a coworker who he knew was headed his way at lunch.

I gotta say, I don't blame him. Sometimes you just gotta hit the "spin move" when you see Sally from the second floor heading over to thrill you with yet more stories that start with, "Oh my God, let me tell you what the baby did -- She is soooooo cute!"

Making awkward small talk with coworkers or discussing what I'm working on is NOT taking a break. If I'm talking about work, it's still work. If I'm concentrating on being politically (and grammatically correct) during our conversation, I'm still at work.

Particularly when you're fresh on the job, you're strongly advised to sit with new people every day in the lunchroom to meet folks from different cross functional departments and build rapport and whatnot. And I've also been told not to sit with the same people (read:black people) every day. OK, I can roll with that.

But sometimes you don't feel like sitting with any people! Is that selfish? Don't take it personal, it's just that I have to see you for the other 7.5 hours of my shift; I'd like these measly 30 minutes to my self!

Take them playclothes off!

I was working at a kids museum, where parents are supposed to play with their children. Instead, many parents used it as an opportunity to catch up on their cell phones with everyone they'd neglected this year while the kids just kind of ran around wreaking havoc.

One Saturday morning, a young guy was in there with his daughter. At about 10 a.m., the cute little girl came running by me. The dad lagged behind, texting someone... in his pajamas.

About three hours later, she came bounding by me again on her way to the exit. A few beats later, here came Dad, shuffling along like a zombie. On his cellphone. In those damn red plaid pajama pants.

Maybe my mother is bougie. But I got yelled at if my feet hit the front porch with house shoes on. Scarves weren't worn anywhere but in bed. One day I tried to do like a relative and wrap my hair because it was hot out. I didn't want my hair to sweat, nor did I want the breeze from having the car windows to blow it all over the place. Practical, right? My mother had a fit, that culminated with the directive to go buy a hat.

Which is why in college, I looked at kids with curiosity and disdain when they went to the caf in pajama pants.  An ex needed to do a midnight WalMart run one day. I said give me a minute to unwrap my hair. Yes, "It's just WalMart," but still!  And today, I smh every time I see a grown person in the store, in the gas station, at McDonalds wearing...pajamas.

Because it begs the question: Did you wake up, take a shower and then put the pajamas on? Probably not...
So we roll out of bed and hit the streets now? That's what we do, Fam? Hygiene optional?