Saturday Ramblings

So I was all set to review the new season of The Ultimate Fighter, but in all honesty, I don't know that I will even watch it. I wrote a review of last week, which was hella juvenile but I never posted it. It was neither comical, nor exciting. Its was a chore even watching last week's episode and this week was almost worse and if you saw it, you know exactly what I am talking about. If I watch and it gets better I will let you know, but if not the next UFC review you get from me will be of an actual match and not this bullshit.

Ive had a lot of personal drama occurring in my household recently, and all of it stems from an unexpected illness and hospital stay. My dad has been in for a week now with pneumonia and a stomach virus of some sort. Basically, I have spent the last week trying to hold down the fort and keep my son on task. My mother is a totally different story. She is just running herself ragged back and forth to the hospital to make sure dad is okay. I don't even get myself involved in that. Part of me thinks she thrives on it and the other part thinks she doesn't know what else to do. I don't try to understand her cause her logic is so twisted most times.

That brings me to the Virginia Tech shootings. My mother, of course has some feelings about it and if you've ever read anything about her on here you know she has some sort of obsession with outcasts, loners, misunderstood or abused children and the like. So of course, she latches on to the fact that the kid was a loner, and basically I am fearing that we are about to have a new screaming match because anything like that ties directly back to my son for some reason, and then she will have to reiterate how she thinks he is being treated poorly and will turn into one of these children. No proof or evidence to suggest that type of scenario mind you. Just her, feeling that her grandson is weak, mentally challenged, incapable and pathetic yet again. I didn't get involved with it this morning. I just walked away and let it ride. I cant fight the good fight every day, and I wont entertain this nonsense, the kid who killed the students at VA Tech has serious mental health issues and that doesn't have shit to do with her grandson.

It finally got warm this weekend and I am glad to see it happen, but I guess that feeling isn't shared across the board. "The boyfriend" hates the damn outdoors. He hates sunshine and people and life in general I think unless it involves being downstairs in his basement watching TV. Okay, possibly I am being unfair, but every time I want to enjoy a little sunshine or just generally have a nice day outside of the house, I get major static. He is sitting here, right now as I type, watching a movie he has probably seen 50 times, just so he doesn't have to be outdoors, or involved with anything remotely fun. Why sit in the house all day is what I am saying? I blame myself really, I asked him to come down, and I should have just let his ass stay home like he wanted.

Happy Saturday folks.

Inked Till The End

Have I mentioned my love of tattoos? I probably have, I mean it is a huge part of who I am. I don't know how I could have left that part out. Seriously, though I dislike getting them, but I really love the end result. I don't have one tattoo that I don't adore. I couldn't possibly get a tattoo that I didn't feel I would love 40 or 50 years from now. Each is special and unique and perfect for me.

I do have one that needs a ton of work. It was the first one I got when I was 20 and it has not weathered the years very well. Its the only one that has any color, and to be honest it was a pretty poor piece of flash out of a book on a trip to Dallas, Georgia. I got sick, immediately. I have serious anxiety issues and what I didn't know about getting tattoos is that sometimes your body will take over and anxiety will drop you like a stone.

I thought it was just hypoglycemia, but really it was anxiety, so I waited another 4 years to get another. That of course went just like the first, except it was bigger and more involved and it took so.fucking.long. Seriously it took forever, and I talked the entire time, loud and annoying and what I assume to be fast. So here I am sweating, and sick, and talking a mile a minute. I must have been a pain in the ass.

I think it was 4 or 5 years ago when a friend decided he was getting these tattoos he had been yammering about for years. Okay that's probably not fair, but seriously I had heard about these damn tattoos for nigh on 10 years and I was glad to see him get on with the get on. I came to provide moral support, but trust and believe he didn't need it. See there are a couple types of tattoo people. There are folks like me that hate everything about the experience except the tattoo covered dudes who work in the shop and the end result, and then there are folks who actually enjoy the tattoo process.

My buddy got two gi-normous tattoos across his upper arms/biceps that took at least 3 hours a piece. He did them both in one sitting, with a one hour break in between. He never even flinched and frankly I was both shocked, amazed and horrified (both is two yes I am aware) that for such a skinny guy he could sit and take all that buzzing and digging and I couldn't even get one without trying to regurgitate.

His behavior convinced me I could actually get another tattoo. So I loaded up on all sorts of soda and candy and food, convincing myself it was a hypoglycemic attack I was attempting to stop. I sat down and 3 minutes in, I got sick again. Sheesh you would think I could learn, but no I just had to keep pushing it. That one hurt too, it was in the worst possible place and it felt like someone was digging into my spine with a hot knife. Why couldn't I be calm like that guy getting the huge Koi tattoo on his back as he snored. Re-fuckin-diculous!

The thing about tattoos is, if you get one its almost impossible to stop. Something about getting ink is so addictive. It becomes something you need to do, not so much want to do. For me its being able to have something so completely different and special that no one really knows about. Sure people who know me, know how much I love them, and know that I have them. I don't tell other people, cause there is a whole lot of non-judgemental judging that goes on when you tell someone you have even one.

If they have some preconceived notions about them, suddenly it becomes one of those things where they have to pretend to be cool with it. Or they have to try hard not ask you insulting questions about it. Its a big mess really, and I have yet to hear anyone formulate a good enough answer other than "I wanted to" and you know that never clears up a damn thing to the un-inked.

The other thing about tattoos (I am ashamed to admit) is that I love tattooed men. A man almost always gets extra points if I think he is attractive and then I find out he has tattoos. I love tattoo artists, I love tattoo apprentices, I just love tattoo culture. Sheesh its hard to explain but I just had this discussion with a friend of mine and she agreed 100%.

I guess I am lucky, I don't catch any heat for my ink, my mother thinks the tattoos I have are beautiful and secretly wishes she were brave enough to get her own 15 year old butterfly re-touched. My son loves them and plans for the day when he can get his own, my boyfriend is covered in them, and my closest friends have them and find them as wonderful as I do. Yes, I am very lucky indeed. My inner circle finds no fault with my choices, and I love them for that.

So I find myself healing new ink. It is by all accounts the most intricate and beautiful piece I have. Its also the one I am most proud of, because not only does it mean so much to me personally, but its the very first tattoo I've gotten where I didn't get sick. I cant stop looking at it and its inspired several people to go back and work on their own canvas. Its a work in progress and the first tattoo that I am not sure will ever truly be complete. I have plans for it, and its not even a full week old.

Can I say that I am finished? Hell no, I will keep getting tattoos for as long as I have enough skin and hiding places. The day it bores me, the day it becomes an afterthought and not a way to beautify my personal canvas, the day I cant wear a tank top and shorts without folks having a complete tizzy, then I will stop. Not that I would ever wear shorts, come on people I am crazy not stupid. I love what I have done to my body, and with every new piece I feel a little more settled.

Jesus Take the Wheel! UFC Edition

My beloved Georges St. Pierre has lost the UFC Welterweight title! All is lost and I fear I may never be right again. Okay I know that was dramatic but seriously GSP is the man, and how he managed to lose is just incomprehensible! I never thought I would say it but “I am not impressed with your performance” GSP. You let me down homie. Will I ever be able to chant along with the TV audience “GSP, GSP?”

I knew that shit wasn’t going to be an easy fight. Matt Serra is the beast and he proved it on last seasons The Ultimate Fighter: The Comeback. I was seriously rooting for him and you know what? He delivered. He never once disappointed me. He has a killer game on the ground, and he is probably as good inside the octagon as he is a coach. Seriously Matt worked his ass of, which is why GSP should have been on his game. He knew what he was up against. I mean sure Serra is no Hughes, but shit I could be totally wrong about that shit too. Looks like Serra’s first defense of the title is with non other than that cocky fuck Matt Hughes. There is already some simmering bad blood between them after Hughes visited the house during TUF4.

Seriously thought GSP, why? Just why? I was never as happy as I was the day you worked Hughes over took the title away. I could see it in your face man, you wanted that title and you were going to get it by any means. This shit is just perplexing, and frankly with a body like that, I should be able to see you kickin ass, holding the title belt over your head for years to come. Fuck I am getting depressed again, let me move on.

Speaking of bad blood, apparently there is or was a fight between Tito and Dana White??? This I have to see. I have long held that something was not quite “managerial” about Dana White’s physique. He doesn’t look to me like he spends all day signing checks and contracts (thought I know he does) just sitting on his ass bullshitting. Naahh, that man works out, and hardcore. Apparently, I am right because I found out recently he is a former boxer. This thing is supposed to be to settle some differences he and Tito have or had in the past, and its purely for shits and grins. Its not a PPV bout, its not a UFC:50-11, is just a plain old match between the two, where I pray Tito doesn’t pound the shit out of Dana so badly he cant go back to signing checks. Oh and Tito, please for the love of god can you get your girlfriend a damn sandwich??? She looks crazy these days and a whole lot like MumRaah. Its not a good look, so toss her a protein bar and one of them damn EAS shakes. Hurry, the gossip bloggers are having a fuckin field day.

So I realized this weekend that I had missed the first episode of The Ultimate Fighter 5. I did however check out the website and let me tell you I am not impressed. Where did they gets these dudes? There is not a Mike Bisping, a Ed Herman or a Kendall Grove amongst them IMO. The previews look like some drama time bullshit too. They are up in the house bumping chests and measuring dicks already. I mean, a little bit of drama is necessary to the show, like when Shoney Carter was throwing those damn water bottles in the pool and be-dazzling all his damn clothes, or when Chris Leben pissed on Jason Thacker’s bed in Season 1. All that shit is super important to how much the fighter wants to tear someone’s head off in the octagon. All I am saying is these dudes look like straight bitches, and someone better step up fast or I will be pissed off.

It's Spring Again

Spring here in the DC Area can mean a lot of things. First and foremost it means that the weather will be hella unpredictable. I never understand why folks get so excited and confused by temporary breaks in the weather. Its Spring people, not summer. Put your damn clothes back on. We had one 80 degree day and suddenly the population loses its mind and starts breaking out the flip flops and shorts. Oh and let me not even get started on the open toe shoes. It was March, and it had snowed just the week before, but I guess that one day was enough to make everyone kirk out and think it was Summer.

I bet it wasn't summer a day later when it was 40 damn degrees and no one had a coat or even sleeves. I bet it wasn't open toe shoe weather when that driving rain was coming down and it was 35 that evening huh? I say it every year but I am going to make it known here that March does not equal Spring in Washington DC. If you got cold, soaked, or were generally caught off guard in your summer clothes then it serves you right. Put some damn clothes on and act like you have an ounce of sense already.

This weekend we went down to the Tidal Basin to see the Cherry Blossoms, which was very nice. Of course there were some fools down there in their shorts and fuckin flip flops freezing their fool asses off. It was 6am, it was 40 degrees and I had on a damn coat and some clothes cause my momma taught me common sense as a itty bitty child. Here are some of the pictures we took.

So to address "Spring" let me start with this. When digging through your clothes from the previous year. Try them on first I beg you. Do not keep or put on anything that is going to leave you looking like an exploded can of biscuits. If there is any doubt in your mind whether it looks crazy or not, ASK someone. Do not hop on the Red line and spend half the ride tugging at your pants. Do not show the office the upper portion of your breasts in a top made to fit your son. Do not wear your "club gear" to the damn office. Its super unprofessional and just tacky as fuck. A good way to check and see if its appropriate is to ask yourself if you have ever "gotten low" in any portion of this outfit. If so, its a poor choice.

Please fix your damn toes before you go running out in open toe shoes. NOT that I condone their use until after tax day, but if you must be that bold and retarded go get a pedicure. Above all else, dress appropriately for the office weather. Unless you work for the park service you will not be outdoors. The office will be air conditioned, and probably cold, so tank tops, pedal pushers and thong sandals are also a poor choice. I don't even know why I bother, cause the promise of warm weather does bring out the bammas.

In addition, I need to address this recent resurgence of "Passing". Passing, if you are unaware is something ethnic peoples did in order to gain entry into white society. The would "pretend" to be white in order to reap certain benefits. Now I know some of this still goes on in the black community, but what I didn't realize was how prevalent it is in the Hispanic and Latino communities. I am well aware that their are some folks who would rather be ANYTHING but ethnic, but it doesn't make it right. What you do is deny yourself the opportunity to learn and embrace your own heritage.

Trust and believe that most folks will know that you aren't white, and all the wishing and the praying in the world wont make you become white either. I just cant figure out how someone would so deeply hate their own race that they would pretend not to be it at all. I find it sad, and I also find it embarrassing but I guess if your intent is to assimilate and become more than what you think your race can be, then you don't care how it looks.

Its crazy to me because I remember growing up and having people assume my mother was white, and it used to make me so angry I would want to fight. Not because it wasn't feasible for my mother to be white, I am pretty damn light, but because I was proud to be black, and happy with my blackness and I didn't feel any different than any of the darker kids in my school. Back then, it was an insult and the folks who said it, used it as such.

My son, (though half white) is a black man. He isn't a mulatto man, he isn't a biracial man, he is black. There is no confusion in our household about that. He needs to be aware that no matter how light he is, and no matter who his father is, no one is going to look at him and mistake him for a Caucasian. If he gets into trouble, he will be treated like a black man. If he goes for an interview, they will see a black man, and when he gets a job he will have to work twice as hard just like he does in school just to be on the same playing field.

He absolutely will be subjected to racism, the black tax and stereotyping. He is and will be treated differently all of his life, and no one is gonna stop to ask what color his dad is. These (though I am quite sure some folks wont believe it) are the cold hard facts and frankly if I don't prepare him for that, then I have failed at my job as his mother.

I would love to see a day when folks aren't ashamed of their heritage. I would love to see a day when people aren't afraid to check the box they belong in. My guess is though if this is still happening today, its not going to change in my lifetime and that is a sad realization.