Showing posts from September, 2016

True Story© - In the Strip Club

True story©… For all of my age-37 obsession with all things titties, some might be shocked to learn that I was 19 or 20 before I EVER set foot in a strip club. I tend to forget which it was due to early 1998 through late 2001 being a 3.5-year blur. To be totally honest, the first one wasn’t even an actual real strip club, it was an after-hours kickback that a then-coworker took me to one night after work in a pool hall in High Point that had either just closed for the night or was recently driven out of business. Total fucking disaster now that I look back on it. I ain’t naming who I went with because he is on my friends list and married now. Anyway, we stopped to cash out for some singles on the way there and when we arrive I’m like “dude, this isn’t a strip club” and being older than me, he assures me we were where we intended to be. We get in and a couple of his homies are already there, already drinking, I am like “where the fuck did liquor come from?” and next thing I know there i

True Story© - D.A.R.E. Made Me This Way

True story®… Backstory: I was born in 1979, which lined up my attendance of elementary school directly with the second half of the 80s. For those of us who attended gradeschool in the 80s, we were faced with a program called D.A.R.E. from 4th-8th grades, aimed at preventing kids from placing themselves in compromising situations as it related to narcotics. Dead ass in the middle of the War On Drugs at the time, they spent more time where I lived on street drugs that people who looked like us might develop an appetite for: heroin and crack. One fatal flaw of the program – at least where I lived – is that the cops they sent to our schools were somewhere between being poorly trained and being insultingly dishonest. One of my favorite lies they told us is that drug dealers were terrible people and that they actually SOUGHT kids out to give – yes, GIVE – drugs to in order to get them to try them and get them hooked on drugs. Before I continue my story, let me explain how deeply flawed this

True Story© - Bringing the Curl Kit Back

True story©… She has a bathroom full of natural hair care products. All kinds of olive oil and shea butter and other things that look like she pays a lot for them to be shipped to the house and aren’t available in stores. Well one night my stomach was misbehaving and my phone was dead, so the only thing I could do to pass the time was to look at and smell the various things on the little shelf in front of the throne (yes, boredom is THAT bad in the mind of a supervillain). Moisturizers, double moisturizers, super triple moisturizers, coil activators, curl activators, shampoos, conditioners, comb-through conditioners, leave in conditioners, EVERY damn thing you could imagine. My mind immediately went back to the ‘curl activator’ thing. Without tipping anyone to what I was up to, I decided to see if it would be ANYTHING like I imagined it would be so I waited until I got to work to test the theory that it would give me the LOOK of a late 80s/early 90s Los Angeles rapper with none of the

True Story© - At Gunpoint

True story ... I'm walking to my car from Wal Mart and a dude jumps out of a maroon GMC Safari and puts a 12gauge to my head... "Where the f*ck you think you going, n**ga?!!?" "c'mon, man, I am just trying to get home to my little girl" "Daughter? So I guess you got a woman somewhere around too, huh?" "What?" "BITCH n***ga, I axed [sic] you a question!" "Yeah!" "you love her?" "of course!" "call her on the phone right now and say 'I love you bae' right now!" "dude" *cocks shotgun* "d-d-did I stutter, motherf*cker?!" "but 'bae' seriously my dude?" "you heard me, unless you wanna die out here in front of all of these people!" ... forced with the prospect of my funeral and using the word "bae," I am here to inform you all that my funeral will be on Monday. My mom has been left with instructions to pay off the ho

True Story© - Scarface

True story time... What some of you might know of me is that I have a sometimes obsessive-to-addictive personality. When I get into shit, I get ALL the way into it. What you may not know is that my first job was at a Winn Dixie on the way up to 11th grade in 1995 (more on why that matters in a minute). So I was in the 10th grade before I ever saw the movie Scarface, and I was immediately hooked. Talking like the characters, remembering whole lines and dialogs, copying mannerisms, etc... now that I think back on it, it was probably pretty damned annoying. One Tuesday after school early in the year, my sister took me to the store to pick up my check before going off to work herself. Lord knows WHERE my brother was and mama was at her second job until later in the evening. I walked to the Conoco on MLK and bought all the Goodies and BC powders they had (brand didn't even matter for what I was doing with it). I pulled the big chair from the living room to the kitchen table and opened A