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Slim Syndrome

I’m slim. In case you haven’t seen me, take a look at the about page for a picture since I refuse to turn this into a BlackBerry photo shoot. Anyway, as I stated, I’m fucking slim! This leaves me at great disadvantage to the rest of the world. Sure, if I turn sideways I can disappear on you. I kill at hide and seek! Sure, when push comes to shove, I can walk into areas most American children can’t get into (childhood obesity is no joke!). Men and women have told me they envy my body. Being slim is cool, until you encounter large black women.

I’m known as the slim, muscular one. I’m slim, so they underestimate. It works to my advantage. Someone even calls me “Slim”. This guy (mid 50s maybe) that comes to the pharmacy at work. He calls me Slim every time he comes in. Freaking love that guy. He’s cool beans! But not all of it  is fucking rainbows and poisonous unicorns. This sucks!!

What is “this” you may ask. I’ll tell you!! Currently, I’m on a New York City bus on my way home. I’m sitting in the back two seats. I believe in a FUCKING BUFFER ZONE! I don’t sit next to people, I don’t stand next to people, in fact if there are 3 urinals, and a guy is in the middle, I look at him and shake my head since I feel this is a clear violation of the unwritten code! I then wait until he’s done so I can go to one side.  I expect the next person to take the OTHER side and not come next to me. Its the unwritten rule, people!! You just give people space. But no. No no no no no! Large black women don’t give me a break! They just see me. I’m slim, I’m light skinned, I wear glasses, and I’m neat. So they take it as an open invite. They’re logic is probably that I don’t take up that much room anyway. You’re right! I don’t. But damn, that doesn’t mean you have to take up your seat plus half of mine!

Now she’s picking at her face. I swear if pimple juice gets on me I’ll fucking wild out like Mr. Chow in The Hangover!!! “You gonna fuck on meeeee?!”

My life is great. My size is optimum. I’m slim, but I have muscle to back it up and work as my paper weight. But large black women and I just don’t get along! It doesn’t work! I need a new shirt. First person to find me an “I hate when large black women sit next to me and squish my skinny ass on the bus” shirt will get a spotlight session, and probably some money!

Help me! Please!


New York City is the most amazing place on the planet (not including Willy Wonka’s or Sesame Street, but I’m not even going to get into the magnitude of that when I was a child). Anyway…

This picture right here is the epitome of why I love my city! In most places the celebrities, they may be a little weird. Out here, New York City, the weird are the celebrities. If you’re having a hard time deciphering the picture, no, you’re not looking at a dropped bag of party accessories. That is a human. Yes, it’s a male. And yes, again, he’s chilling in the middle (okay, maybe not the middle middle, like middle) but shit, he’s laying down in the street like it’s his couch. If that isn’t thug life then I don’t know what the fuck is!

I was walking up (wait), no sorry I was walking downtown one night with my headphones in, blasting music, and dodging/scaring tourists. I almost tripped over this dude as I was dancing blindly in the streets. I walked by, and about 10 feet later, my brain kicked me in the forehead and told me to turn around. I did, and it dawned on me…

This is a cool motherfucker!!

I’ve seen this guy before. He’s usually not hanging out this far up. He’s a 14th street baby. His bike is wicked awesome too!! I wonder if anyone has ever tried to rob him for it. They have probably tried. He probably killed them and ate them for dinner. Maybe that’s why he’s laying down in Times Square? That’s a pretty big meal. It’s kind of like…

I don’t know that kids name, but damn he tastes good with hot sauce!

Then, just like with Chinese food, the itis kicks in… NOW! And then there you are, downed from eating people.

But then we wonder, what does he do when he’s not eating people (most likely tourists, since New Yorkers probably taste like crap)? Well, you got to get down to get up right? So lets do the equation.

Up + edible people = down.

Down is now had. You have down. You are down.

Down = only one way to go = up.

Therefore you got to get down to get up. Duhr.

So what do you do once you’re up aka not down? You do the only logical thing! You stand on a garbage can in 70 degree weather in order to spot your next meal. There he is!

Tonight I set it back a step. I tried to fight what it is that I have been doing; the whole shut out “I don’t care” thing. It backfired. I can live with that. Dealing with the heartless heart who feels it all, it’s tough. I took something sensitive and squeezed it dry apparently. Now, she doesn’t even hurt. Doesn’t feel a thing. But why do I?

I was never really good at the shut out thing. I’m too soft. Perhaps I need to learn to turn the valve completely off? But that would make me so uncharacteristically cold. I don’t like the cold. I’m tropical. So is my heart apparently. My cold streak is very short lived. Like testicles in cold water. That shit won’t be fly for that long.

So now here I am. Back to listening to music to zone me out. With this attempt, I think I will now focus my attention on turning everything off. It’s best to just let the damage be done and walk away from the blast without looking back. It affects too many individuals, and by too many I mean more than just me.

I aspire to make this the LAST, and I mean LAST post of this nature. I aim to make this the LAST, and I mean LAST attempt at looking back. Success is my enemy. But tonight, I think I’ll show that bitch a fight it’s never felt out of me before.

Other than that, everything is great. Another day at work with the home team (I love my team) and we had a pretty kick ass session running the floor today. Some lady came in with 10 years worth of film to be processed. 10 years! You know what that is? That’s 60 disposable cameras! 60 rolls of film that take fucking forever!!

In other news, military Snuggies have arrived in the store and I want to find a way to convince the toughest looking guys who come into the store to buy some. If I can get some buffed out of his mind dude to buy a Snuggie for himself, I will be convinced that I can run the world. I will quit my job, go to DC, holler at President Obama, tell him to take a break, and proceed to go out in a suit with a cigarette in my mouth kissing babies and signing shit. My first speech will be on how the economy is a mess because there is more emphasis on health care than cereal. I will be a success.

Vote for me!

F5 and Reset My Life

This is probably the 12th blog I have started since 2006. My life is filled with confusion. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, but what else is new. I find writing to be therapeutic and I think it’s about time I take an entirely (not so entire) new perspective and approach to things. I’m too nice. I’m too mean. I’m too… not me right now. I hate feeling off balance. It’s one of those days where I have so much work to be done but I’m about as motivated as M.C. Hammer is to battle Chris Brown (not motivated AT ALL).

I broke up with my girlfriend of 8 months. It hurts like all hell to know what I chose to do hurts her. I feel the difference and to have to adjust. I got to be honest, it’s not something I wanted to do but there is a certain line that one has to draw when you realize you’re losing yourself in something else, in someone else. The stress, the fights, the differences, the deterioration, it’s just not for me right now. Perhaps that makes me weak? Maybe I am. I just don’t see things the same way. I love her. She probably thinks I hate her. We have two classes together and it is now the most awkward thing since Pee Wee Herman got caught masturbating. We both make cognitive efforts to not even look at each other. I feel so stupid doing so. My boy Lenny would ask me, simply,

What are you a girl or something?

Lol that’s our favorite line from the movie Due Date which, by the way, is funny as all hell. I loved it! Anyway, this, this is where I vent. You know, do the Mase thing, breathe, stretch, shake, let it go. Will it work? Maybe. Will it get me into trouble? Most likely. But hey, what’s the point of being alive if all you do is play it safe? I see no point in safety. That’s why I don’t watch football. All the pads make me laugh. That, my dear reader, is an absolute lie. I think that kind of safety is necessary, but I’d rather fly through life with no rules than a game plan.

No more poetry (if you followed the old blog) will be going up, at least not for quite some time. I think I need to channel my energy elsewhere. This will be no holding back. This post is one of strange sorts because I always feel weird about introductory things. I need to get back to writing papers since I’m working from 2:30 to 10:30 today. Peace out until later. Hopefully, this project is a success. Thanks all!

If you want to know more about me, check out the About page.

Feel my mood right now. This is all I’ve played for the past 3 days. Vibe with me.

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