Monthly Archives: August 2011

Today we pay tribute to one of the greatest technological marvels of all time. More important than the light bulb, penicillin and the combustion engine, I present to you

...Let heaven and nature sing

The George Foreman Lean, Mean Fat-Reducing Grilling Machine

I don’t care what race, gender, sexual orientation or economic class you came from, you know what the hell this thing is. I went to college dead broke and, trust me, that’s the last thing you want to be at an HBCU. The food in our cafeteria was so bad on some days that there was a line to get to the boxed cereal at dinner. And please God, don’t let them run out of milk! When I was on my last dime, hungry and considering pawning my Playstation to eat, The George Foreman Grill turned the tides of the economic war.

It started out with just frying bologna on it and slowly grew into having dorm dinners where we’d buy cheap cuts of pork chops and steak and fry them up. Then, one day when I was down to my last ten bucks, I was possessed by the ghost of Hustlemen Past.

I went to the grocery store and bought a box of knock-off Steak-ums, store brand cheese, some bread, a pack of Kool-Aid and paper plates and cups. I went back to the room, opened up my door and placed my box fan facing out into the hall. Then I fried the Steak-Ums on the floor in front of the fan. It took all of two minutes for the dudes across the hall to ask if they could “hold a sandwich.”
“Three dollars!”
One of em said no, but the other was too hungry to argue and when I offered to throw in a cup of Kool-Aid, I had him hooked. In ten minutes I was out of Steak-Ums and started selling fried ham and cheese sandwiches for $2 a pop. By the end of the night I had enough money to go back out, put gas in the car and buy some real food.
Lather, Rinse, Repeat.

Hot Dogs, hamburgers…you name it, room 301 was selling it. I did that at least two weeks straight before the RA tried to shut me down. Gotta pay the authorities off, so he ended up eating for free. I got so gangster with it that I leveled the grill off one day with a real thin book from the library. I poured like a tablespoon of grease in between each of the little slots and made some damn french fries with it.

So today, I give thanks to George Foreman and his might grill. I don’t know about knocking out fat, but it sure as hell knocked off hunger pangs.

Bet they don't serve this at Ruth's Chris

Broke 101

If you find yourself looking down this aisle, you’re broke. I’m issuing this public service announcement for any kids out there who, like me, may not be aware that they’re broke. It wasn’t a secret that my family tried to hide from me. As a matter of fact, every time I asked for something they seemed eager to tell me that they didn’t have any money. I even remember my mother telling me that if I answered the phone and the person sounded White then tell them that she isn’t home.

Still with all of this ingrained in my head, I somehow didn’t know we were poor. That is until I went to school bragging about how I had a potted meat sandwich for lunch. That’s when I learned that turning my nose up at Spam was quite hypocritical considering that potted meat is probably Spam’s slightly retarded younger brother.

So yes, if you have to shop on this aisle you are broke, but fear not…being broke makes you resourceful in your later years. If not for my training as a child I would’ve died of starvation in college. I was the only person cooking Lo Mein in my dorm room with vienna sausages and Ramen Noodles. (The secret is to marinate the vienna sausages in soy sauce overnight, cook on a Foreman Grill and then toss into the noodles. For a cajun take on this dish you can stir fry them by leveling the Foreman grill and dropping the noodles onto the grill for no more than 1 minute.)

Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.

At your best, you are love

I can’t believe it’s been ten years. I was in high school when Tupac and Biggie got killed. People were shocked. For starters, no one thought Tupac could be killed by bullets. After he made Hit Em Up, I remember the DJ on the radio saying that Tupac’s days were numbered. When Biggie died it was more surprising because it seemed like Tupac had JUST died.

But Aaliyah was something entirely different. Aaliyah’s death stung a little bit. There was something about her that made people react as if they knew her personally. I remember hearing about it on the radio while sitting up in my dorm. This was before Facebook so everyone jumped on AOL Instant Messenger and the chatrooms to talk about it.

The next day was just morbid. People in class were sad about it and I remember scouring BET to listen to a choked up Timbaland and Missy weigh in on it. It really hit close to home to hear DMX sobbing. What was it about her that made a dude like him break down? For me, she was special because her calm and friendly demeanor seemed genuine. Her MTV Diary was probably the most personal I’ve seen.

Her death was quickly overshadowed two weeks later by 9/11, but there’s something about her that still elicits a remorseful sigh when we look at what the entertainment industry has to offer these days. No drugs, no scandals, no blatantly feigned “down to earth” demeanor. She was the real deal…one in a million.

My daughter was asleep on the living room floor and I was in the bedroom playing my 360. The bed shook and it felt weird but I told myself that it was just someone moving furniture or doing some work on the vacant apartment next door. My nigganess didn’t completely buy that, so I was trying to imagine what kind of equipment would shake my bed from the other side of the wall and then the bed shook some more like the floor was wobbling. The TV shook and I noticed the blinds swaying.

Activate Inner Nigga

I don’t remember putting down the controller. I don’t remember moving the nachos out of the way. All I know is that I ran to the living room, scooped up my daughter, got dressed, grabbed her some Gerber food, filled a sippy cup with water, grabbed my wallet and keys and ran for the elevator. All of this happened before the controller hit the floor.

Now an earthquake never entered my mind. I live in Washington, DC. When was the last time you ever heard of an earthquake hitting DC? I thought it was either the ghost of Bin Laden blowing some shit up downtown or my building collapsing. Because I was moving at Last Dragon speeds my brain perceived time completely differently. I figured that I must have been moving around the apartment so fast that I was somehow moving faster than the building could collapse around me.

I thought about 9/11 and how those people crowded the stairwells and died in the WTC so I made the (probably stupid) decision to take the elevator. I got outside and someone told me it was an earthquake. I really hauled ass to the car then. Somehow standing in front of a highrise full of glass picture windows during an earthquake seemed…risky. I hopped in the car and drove a few blocks while trying to call–anyone.

No answer from the wife, no answer from my friends so I drove downtown to go find my baby. I did all kinds of illegal shit to make it through traffic, but I got to her job and found several thousand people outside crowding the streets. I found her like Will Smith in Independence Day and we got back in the car and got the hell away from downtown.

Now I’m watching all of the people on the news sitting in traffic trying to get home.

Hell of a day.

If you’re money is currently living at Suntrust or Wells Fargo/Wachovia then this post is for you.

Starting in the Fall, both banks will charge a monthly fee for the privilege of using your debit card. Wells Fargo is charging $3 a month while Suntrust is swinging for the fences with $5. Suntrust is also eliminating their Free Checking account. Unless you sign up for direct deposit of more than $100 each month then you’ll be hit with a $7 fee. At first the $7 didn’t bother me. I have direct deposit–who doesn’t these days? Then I remembered the other accounts. We have a joint account and two individual accounts. The direct deposit only goes into one of the three so that’s $14 a month for the other two. In the event that we pay for gas at the pump, buy a farecard with our check card or just choose not to carry cash since it tends to be stolen/lost, then that could be another $15 a month. So now we’re spending $30 a month for something that used to be free.

I have a problem with that. I’m a smart guy. I know where this is coming from. The government has been reeling in just how much banks can make through fines and fees. Last year they changed the way overdraft charges are applied. This year they’re cutting how much the banks can charge merchants each time you swipe your card. Since they can’t get the money from the stores, they’ll get them from you, the customer.

They have a business to run–I get that–but they make more money off of customers already. It’s not like the bank takes your money and keeps it in the vault until you pull up to the ATM machine to get it back. They take your money and use it to loan to someone else or invest in something. For the use of your money, they pay you interest. Let’s say you miraculously get five percent interest from them. Well, they’re gonna give that money to someone else in the form of a loan or credit card and charge them way more than that. Ever heard of 21% interest credit cards? Yeah, they are getting paid. If you’re a poor schmuck like me then you don’t even get interest on your Free Checking account so they get to use my money for free. Now all of a sudden they want me to pay them to screw me? I’ve never been into prostitutes and don’t plan to do it now.

So what’s the next course of action? We’re moving the money to a Credit Union. Free Checking, quarterly dividends and no charge to use my own money.

Deuces!

If you’re money is currently living at Suntrust or Wells Fargo/Wachovia then this post is for you.

Starting in the Fall, both banks will charge a monthly fee for the privilege of using your debit card. Wells Fargo is charging $3 a month while Suntrust is swinging for the fences with $5. Suntrust is also eliminating their Free Checking account. Unless you sign up for direct deposit of more than $100 each month then you’ll be hit with a $7 fee. At first the $7 didn’t bother me. I have direct deposit–who doesn’t these days? Then I remembered the other accounts. We have a joint account and two individual accounts. The direct deposit only goes into one of the three so that’s $14 a month for the other two. In the event that we pay for gas at the pump, buy a farecard with our check card or just choose not to carry cash since it tends to be stolen/lost, then that could be another $15 a month. So now we’re spending $30 a month for something that used to be free.

I have a problem with that. I’m a smart guy. I know where this is coming from. The government has been reeling in just how much banks can make through fines and fees. Last year they changed the way overdraft charges are applied. This year they’re cutting how much the banks can charge merchants each time you swipe your card. Since they can’t get the money from the stores, they’ll get them from you, the customer.

They have a business to run–I get that–but they make more money off of customers already. It’s not like the bank takes your money and keeps it in the vault until you pull up to the ATM machine to get it back. They take your money and use it to loan to someone else or invest in something. For the use of your money, they pay you interest. Let’s say you miraculously get five percent interest from them. Well, they’re gonna give that money to someone else in the form of a loan or credit card and charge them way more than that. Ever heard of 21% interest credit cards? Yeah, they are getting paid. If you’re a poor schmuck like me then you don’t even get interest on your Free Checking account so they get to use my money for free. Now all of a sudden they want me to pay them to screw me? I’ve never been into prostitutes and don’t plan to do it now.

So what’s the next course of action? We’re moving the money to a Credit Union. Free Checking, quarterly dividends and no charge to use my own money.

Deuces!

I guess this is their way of displaying their portfolio

You know you’re in a hood mall when…
One of the stores not only sells off brand clothes, watches and gear but their claim to fame is their Rest In Peace T-Shirt business. If there was a logo for all that is ghetto it would be this damn store right here. I went to Business School, so I get it: See a need, fill a need. But…Damn, do you have to put up samples of your work with scotch tape up on the front window?

There are like fifty pictures taped to the window: R.I.P Black, We Miss You Tee-Tee. You know I have no shame, so I’m standing there taking pictures while the people inside the store are like, “What the hell is he doing?” Then the thought occurs to me, “Why the hell are all of the photos from these shirts taken at the club?” Y’all couldn’t find any other pictures? I know you want to put up something recent, but did the nigga die right on his way home from the club? I mean, this is DC so it’s totally plausible.

Damn Black People…damn!

SMH

I’ve been keeping a journal ever since I was eleven years old. I was an only child for nine years, so my little sister offered very little in the way of companionship when she popped out. By the time she’d learned to talk and be remotely interesting, I’d learned to keep myself occupied. Writing advice to my future grown-up self in the form of a journal was one such way. It’s a practice that I keep to this very day. In the present time, I feel like an idiot. Looking back at stuff I’ve written…I’m not too bad.

One entry is from a few years ago. I wrote:

There are 25,000 days in your life. Your death will only happen on one of them. Don’t waste the other 24,999 worrying about how you’ll feel, what you’ll regret and what you’ll wish you’d done differently. Live your life now so that when you die, you can look back and see that the majority of those 25,000 days were good days.

Experience is a resource without which you can’t expect to really do an efficient job of living. Either you start off by borrowing from the experiences of others, namely your parents and older relatives, or you go out and acquire your own. The latter is more time consuming and the opportunity costs associated with it are huge, but sometimes you have to do what you have to do.
(In simpler terms… If you start out with a strong support network of parents and family who’ve been there and done that and are good at sharing their life experience without being overbearing or alienating you then you won’t have to make so many mistakes on your own. You won’t have so many setbacks. Maybe you’ll go far in life because you had a good start. But…if your parents aren’t around, or they didn’t do much themselves or they are horrible at explaining life without being dicks about it then you’ll have to make your own mistakes to grow into the person you are destined to become. It’ll take more time. You’ll find it much more difficult, but you can’t beat yourself up over it because life requires you to learn and grow. How you do it is sometimes out of your control.)

Random thoughts and journal entries. Just thought I’d share. It is my website after all.

I don’t remember what I was watching but it had something to do with time travel and the thought popped in my head, “What would you do if you had a time machine.” Everybody probably thinks that at some point. Does it make me a greedy bastard that my first thought was to go back to 1987 and go to McDonald’s?

When I was five, McDonald’s was the shit. As a matter of fact, all food was the shit in the late 80′s. Me and the wife were at a diner one day and I got a Coke and the first thing out of my mouth was, “Taste this, it tastes like Cokes from back when we were little.” I don’t care what it was: Froot Loops, Filet-o-Fish, Now-and-Laters, even Cup o’ Noodle soup–All of it tasted better back then.

What the hell happened? The natural assumption is that everything is overprocessed these days, but I highly doubt that back then they had a real chef cooking up soup and then drying it out to fit in those little cups. All I know is that food today sucks.

My fat man rant is over. Carry on.