Friday, June 23, 2006

What's in a dream?

Last night I went to bed with a very heavy heart. Many of the things swirling around in my head came crashing down on me. I subsequently dreamed a dream so significant to everything that has been going on in my life and everything that I have been feeling, I almost feel obligated to share it. It's sort of wacked out, but do you really expect anything else from the mind of Mamba? I thought not.

I was in a room. With this HUGE bitch. With a gun. I didn't know her exact plan for me, but I had a sneaking suspicion things wouldn't end well for yours truly. So I broke out. I kept running until I found this house. I told the owner that someone was chasing me and trying to kill me. Well, evidently she knew the broad, pulled out a meat cleaver, then SHE started chasing me. So I broke again. Upon coming across another safe house, I explained my situation again. This brings the lunatics in hot pursit of the kid count up to 3. Again and again, I keep coming upon these "safe houses", with each situation being either equally or more perilous than the last.

Finally I run into a house and find an attic where a bunch of children are playing. They ask for permission to brush my hair and want to play tea party. Just when I feel comfortable enough to say yes, I hear Psycho Number 1 coming up the stairs, talking to the kids - their relatives. So I dive over this countertop and hide, hoping that she won't see me. Of course, she does and calls out to her cohorts. I see a wrought iron door, so I decide to run for it again. Unfortunately for me, it's locked from the outside, so I start reaching through the door to unlock it, and I hear her scream, "This dumb bitch is gonna to run again. Doesn't she know there's nowhere to go?" I realize that she's right. I don't know what's on the other side of that door. I can either run the risk of adding another person to the chase, or I can go downstairs and face the 6 bitches waiting for me. I started thinking to myself, "I can knock at least one of them hoes out. Two if I hit them with the Mighty Mamba Rabbit Punch Power Mix."

While she's screaming to her folks about how bad they're going to mess over me, I walk past her and go downstairs, with her behind me, still yelling. They're standing in a semi-circile, and I get in front of them, pull off my earrings (because I'm a LAAAADY), throw my set up and say, "Alright bitches, let's rock, because I'm not running another step." And they all just stand there and look at each other, as though they have no idea of what to do. So I just stand there, waiting for one of them to make a move, but it seems like now that I won't back down, their heart is gone.

Then I hear "Juicy" (my cell phone alarm) and wake up.

Now, this dream was significant to me in so many different facets of my life, once I woke up, all I could do was sit down and ponder it's meaning, and determine whether or not I would take it seriously. I think a lot of us have leftover demons that we try to escape, whether it's a jobs, false friends, bad relationships, or finances. What often happens is that we "escape" to a situation that is potentially worse, because we haven't overcome the first hurdle. More times than not, if we take care of and close an issue right off the bat, it's not as bad as we feared.

Just some mental grub for ya.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Swagger Jacking

Yo. There's nothing new under the sun people. Truly. I recognize that. Everybody that is doing something, is doing a variation of what they have seen, learned or observed. Artists of all sorts often emulate or find inspiration from other artists they admire. Writing is my passion. I'm not going to say that I'm one of the "greats", but I will say that I, like many people, put time and thought into what I write. That includes my blog. Even when I get an idea from a news article, song, movie, or another blogger, I give respect to the source. THEREFORE, when I see my shit get straight JACKED, I get a little tight about it. (There was also the instance when someone went to my blog and directed folks to theirs. Riley Freeman put it best when he said, "That's REAL gay my nigga! Cut that out!")

If I may loosely quote the unforgettable Raekwon, "I DON'T WANT NOBODY SOUNDIN' LIKE ME, OR MY CREW, ON NO BLOG!" Okay, maybe that's going a little far, but I think I made my point. There's room enough in the blogosphere for everybody. Doling out a little respect really won't hurt nuffin.

*This has been a public service announcement by Gityoshytryte Productions

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Releasing my delf

So on one of my other blogs, I let folks give me a bunch of topic with the promise that I'd blog about them. So, for your reading enjoyment:


So, uh, STO wanted me to blog about hossenfeffer. I said I'd do it so. . .hossenfeffer is essentially rabbit meat. I have discovered that it is also spelled hasenfeffer, which is a sour rabbit. Mmm-mm. Now, since i don't eat anything that could feasibly run across my porch, I really can't blog much about this topic. However, my concern about STO's interest in it could produce and ENDLESS blog. STO? Need a lil therapy hon? Traumatized by a rabbit? Just messing. I don't want him to stab me. He IS violent ya know.

Love and whatnot

Ladies, ladies! The men folk really have ya'll pondering if the grass is greener eh? Well, lean in close, and I'll give you my assessment on Northern men vs. Southern men (though technically, we are still below the M.D. line, I feel where you're coming from). Southern men lie to you. Northern men lie after they've gone to work. As you can see, the end result is the same, ergo, there's really no difference. A little to jaded for the fellas? *sigh* Okay. Not ALL of y'all lie *cough much*. (Yeah, I know we lie too. But yall didn't ask about that, lol. Closed mouths don't get fed.) However, my point, and I do have one, is that for better or worse, men are men. So hold off on buying that plane ticket because "you heard the brothers in *insert random metropolitan area* are the BOMB" because, honey, they're not. As my blogs of late would indicate though, I'm not very optimistic in the romance department, so maybe I'm not the one to ask. I'd be lying if I said I didn't half hope for a little "pick up" in the love department. But fam'ly, can I be honest with you? This has SUCKED.

There are a few differences. The economy is a little better, and there are more college graduates up here, so employed brothers are more common. I can also say that the brothers up around these parts are fairly impressed with themselves. For instance: recently, a brother was eyeballing me, HARD. Understandable, because I had on the spring work finery and whatnot. He was actually a handsome brother, well put together, etc. On a normal day, he would have gotten some play. However, the brother started basically posing and profiling. My people, I shit you not. Dude all but did the Capitan Morgan. I couldn't have talked to him if I wanted to because I was so busy biting the inside of my mouth to keep from laughing. Then there is the plethora of males who talk about what they drive, how much they make, how much they're gonna make, blah, blah, blah, (yes they do talk as much as women when the topic is themselves lol) and never discuss things that actually matter: do you have explosive gas? Will a bitch be waiting to stab me if we walk out the door together? Do you have a hossenfeffer fixation? So though things are different, they're the same, because the brothers down south can be full of some caca as well.

In reference to the BANs (or BABs for the fellas) that calls when they are in some form of "need". We all, at one point or another, have been in a situation where realized that we have been 'bootycalled', 'car repair called', 'i need a ride called' or 'i want to go out and not spend my money called'. Hey, shit happens. However, you're faced with a decision of whether or not you're going to be used, and/or is this person even worth being in your life in ANY capacity. Once you make that determination, all you can do is stick with it. Ain't nothing wrong with call block. Or hell, ain't nothing wrong with answering the phone "don't f*****g call me!" Hell, they ain't paying the bill.

Being both a dumper and a dumpee, my assessment on that is really simple. People dump or get dumped, for one of two reasons: either they don't like each other anymore, or they never really liked one another to begin with. More often than not, either one or both parties are damaged. People that are well adjusted and happy with one another don't dump each other. Yeah, it hurts like hell (BELEEEE me I know it) but more often than not better in the long run. Who wants to be with someone that feels stuck?

Black/white love. I can't say that there's anything wrong with it, but that actually depends on what motivates the involved parties. If two people look beyond the opinions of others for love and happiness, who am I to deny that. There is barely enough time for me to keep tabs on my own happiness. If it floats their boat, sail on. However, I think I do get annoyed with "trophy whitey/trophy darkie." Self hatred is never a good look.


I must say that my job is different here. However, though the South is characterized by it's "country pace", they were working a sisters ass off there. I worked in a litigation small firm, so everything was needed yesterday. I don't have to put in anywhere near the OT that I did at my old firm, and the deadlines that I am given are usually far beyond what I need. I do have one boss that has decided that I am the "fix-it ho" and only is aware of my existence when she needs something. I won't elaborate on this thing, but I will say that everything has it's price. That includes disregarding those that you need most. Other than that, I LOVE my job. A 7 hour workday is a beautiful thing ladies and gentlemen.

The Kids

The two cutest negroes in Los Estados Unidos are coming home in one week and I couldn't be more excited. When I talk to Lil Bit, she always tells me how many days are left before she comes home. Lil Man has decided (and I use that term loose as a hookers Saturday night drawers) that he doesn't want to live in Maryland. Lil Man also has a lil girl that comes to his house every day to play video games. I don't NEEEEED these problems. I'm sure he'll adjust.

Nigga technology and other forms of ignance

Ok, first of all Senor, you know you be sending all of your bitches smiley faces. Bitches love smiley faces. I'm thinking some people don't want to use up all their cell phone minutes and send texts. Some of those same people *cough foxxy cough* caused Mamba to have to up the number of text messages on her plan. I don't have too much issue with texting folks, but you chirpin muthafuckas gotta stop. No, you know what? Imma say it: YOU CHIRPIN NIGGAS (this includes those of the burrito variety) GOTTA STOP. Every time I hear a damn chirp, I can bet my check that it's some ignant colored soul, talking loudly about shit no one else on earth, other than the ignant chirping summamabitch on the other end, wants to hear. What's worse is that they don't HAVE to have that shit on speaker. Newsflash: this does not make you look important. It makes you stupid. Important people have been doing important things all day, therefore, they don't have time to talk about their brother's baby mama. Find something else to occupy your time. I don't care what you do: read a book, work on your citizenship, fall off the face of the planet, whatever! Just wrap that shit UP B!

The Katrina relief funds. Allow me a moment of digression please. Whenever I think about Katrina, it forces me to say "FUCK TEXAS". These fucking Texans make me sick acting like people from N.O. moved into THEIR houses after Katrina. If one more idiot posts that job fair urban legend I'm gonna choke. A few years back, when Houston flooded, my father was among a group of 250 who traveled out there to help people rebuild their homes, etc. Some of those same people are now getting treated like crap in Texas. As Texas is part of the United States of America, that would mean it is a recipient of federal tax dollars; some of which come from Louisiana. Therefore, if you are a Texan that has a problem with the relocated New Orleanians, please slowly fuck yourself with a rusty spur.

Sorry about that. Anyway, regarding the relief funds. Frankly, in my opinion, it was a plan to buy the nigras out of New Orleans. However, as my boy Honeycutt says, "niggaz is a beautiful thing", and where there's money, somebody's gonna smell a hustle. Therefore, the grand plan backfired on them. If they were really concerned with the money being spent wisely, etc. why did they not also offer financial counseling of some sort? They were offering contracting kickbacks to everyone else, they couldn't have hooked up T.D. Waterhouse? A large chunk of those people had never seen that much money in a YEAR, much less in one check. I'm sure there are people that did ignant shit with the money they received. But what are ya gonna do? For every one of them, someone else has gone elsewhere and completely rebuilt their lives with the money they received. Including yours truly. The media keeps bringing that up to reference "the ignant niggas that spent relief money on strippers and spinning rims". Meanwhile, all the other big time kickbacks are ignored. There are hundreds (possibly thousands) of trailers that are, even still, unused, yet contractors have been paid. New Orleans' East and 9th Ward communities are still all but desolate (my old neighborhood REMAINS in utter darkness), cars still litter the streets, yet contractors have been paid. We are 21 days into a new hurricane season, these things are still incomplete, yet contractors have been paid. Let's keep in mind that I haven't even mentioned this waste of a war that the U.S. is involved in. They found two young soldiers tortured and killed just a day or so ago. But they're going to endlessly run the same story about some ignant, probably never had money before, soul that wanted some MOMOs and titties in his face? Get the hell out of here.

Hopefully, my responses have been to your liking. If there is anything you would like me to elaborate on. . .sike, I'm done man. Go to google or something.

. . .and I'm SPENT!

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

The Blurt Out Extravaganzza!

Remember the colored shirts with white collars that guys used to wear? (Or maybe men still do that. I don't pay attention.) I watched Office Space this weekend and saw that the evil VP (Lumberg) wore them. I honestly can't think of a man that I have known, that wore that style of shirt regularly, that wasn't inherently evil. The mark of the beast? Maybe.

I also think that men who wear big white framed sunglasses are evil. Those things REALLY look like the type of $3.00 shades my mother would buy for me at the TG&Y (southerners know what I'm talking about) to shut me the hell up. Sorry. They just look dumb to me.

Did yall know that D4L and Dem Franchize Boyz were beefing about who invented "snap" music? Did yall even know that "snap" was a type of music? Maybe the better question is, did yall care? Yeah, didn't think so. I believe that mankind at large can settle this dispute. You both suck badly and equally. And you're both clocked in at 14:30 of your 15 minutes of fame. Hurry up and work on that last "hit" so you can pay the balance on your spinning rims.

I find the number of sisters working out regularly in my gym very encouraging. (I must admit though, I was a little grossed out by the sister that was on the treadmill barefoot. Yuck?) I plan to take pictures of them and paste their faces over the multitude of Caucasian images that are plastered all over the walls. WE WORK OUT TO MUTHAF****!

I'm reading a book by Patricia Hill Collins (Black Sexual Politics: African Americans, Gender, and the New Racism), and it is fairly interesting. I find that she makes valid points, and though her overall message is good, there is something in the tone of her writing (at least up to the point that I have read) that makes her seem a tad bit out of touch with my age group. However, despite that, I still think the book is worth a perusal.

I brought vengeance upon the mosquito that assaulted me. It HAD to be the same one because it was all fat and whatnot. So, though I could have just slapped it, I chose to bludgeon it with the written word of Ms. Collins.

Jay-Z is headlining a (sold out) concert at RCHM and the tickets START at $135. Word? I mean, dude is aight, but he damn sure ain't $135 aight. That joint betta be coming with a happy ending at those prices. Personally, I appreciate that he is good enough by radio standards, however, he really overdoes it with the boasting. His professing to be the greatest is tantamount to me standing in a room full of midgets and saying I'm the tallest. Sure, I'm the tallest. . .in the ROOM. I'm not hating on dude, but I'm really hesitant to throw the "greatest" title around with that great one's entire catalog is like a neverending episode of deja vu.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006


This week, I would swear that there are little gnomes running around my universe trying to figure out "how much this bitch can take before she clicks the fuck out." I'm tryin' y'all. I'm tryin' REAL hard to be the shepherd. But the forecast is NOT optimistic.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Has the planet gone mad?!

In the news this morning, recent scientific studies state that road rage stems from a personality disorder. Specifically "intermittent explosive disorder". Wooooooord? Thanks for clearing that up. GETDAFUGGOUTTAHEAH! Folks with road rage fit in one of two categories: (1) fed up with the bullshit, or (2) bullyish asshole. Either the dillweed that cut you off in traffic was the straw that broke the camel's back, or you're an asshole and you just like to make noise the moment things don't go your way and your parents never corrected that behavior. Stupid scientists. That whole finding cures for AIDS, cancer and, hell, the common cold, don't have you busy enough? Get your ass back in the lab and work on something relevant and beneficial to humanity at large.

Last night, I was watching one of my Chappelle standup DVDs ("For What it's Worth" - not as funny as "Killin' Them Softly," but worth a look see), and he delved into the trouble black celebrities have been facing (usually by their own doing). In that, he discussed R. Kelly. Here's my perspective on the situation in general. The prevailing joke is that it is only those possessing a "niggerish" mentality (see "ghetto ass black folks") would support R. Kelly and listen to his music. Y'all remember when Rob Lowe got caught on videotape fucking the 16 year old? He helped with (conservative) Arnold Schwarzenegger's campaign for governor. Or better yet, Roman Polanski fled CONVICTION (not prosecution) related to the statutory rape of a 13 year-old girl. They gave old dude an Oscar. My point? Well, I don't know if I have one. I'm not absolving R. Kelly (I personally think he's on the top 10 list of "Nastiest Mofos in the World"). Just thought I'd drop that as something to think about.

About a week ago, VH1 had a show related to hip hop video vixens. First folks, let's discuss this word "vixen". Vixen is defined as: (1)A female fox. (2) A woman regarded as quarrelsome, shrewish, or malicious. Am I the only one that misses the words "ass out rump shaker"? Didn't think so. Now, does shaking your rump in a video make you a ho? Not at all. You could well be a vixen. However, if you subsequently compete in the pussy decathalon, then you have successfully graduated from vixen to ho. Chronicling those adventures, making a profit off said chronicles, then considering yourself "redeemed" because some middle aged white man is willing to be seen in public with you does not make you a reformed "vixen". If anything, you could arguably be considered a 360 degree, documented ho. (Am I the only one that found her having a picture of her son in the same publication as her dick sucking resume a little disturbing?)

Y'all going to see "The Omen"? Good luck with that cousin. There are things in this world I just don't fool with. Not even at the box office.

It's been said time and again, but this war is Vietnam's sequel. I find it puzzling that the voices so adamantly opposed to "wasting" money on social/welfare programs, have no issue with this war. Somehow, I think that Marines killing 24 people (in ONE incident) that they were sent over to "free" is somehow counterproductive, and therefore, wasteful.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Two tears in a bucket. . .

I'm not sure if i pissed off Oshun, Venus or Aphrodite, but onna dem brawds is MAAAAAD at me. I'm not one for playing out my love life (or lack thereof) on the net in any significant way, and I promise you, today, I'm not gonna start (well, not too much). However, I will say this: being told "oh yeah, I'm dating somebody else" (I could swear I JUST gave to this fund!) as casually as I would tell MCI that I switched to AT&T is a real shitty way to start a rainy Saturday. That's just not what's hot in the streets. What drives me insane, is that I saw it coming. I ALWAYS see it coming. Sooo, maybe I'm supposed to be used to it?

The same old has become too much for me. Particularly when someone goes out of their way to "prove" otherwise. Blah. When do I get my license to just be fed up, tired, and maybe a little angry? Because being nice obviously isn't cutting it.
Imma be straight. It's just gonna take me a minute to get back to my regularly scheduled programming.