According to CNN, Encyclopedia Britannica has printed it's final edition. I'm kinda shocked because I thought they stopped printing those years ago, or at best they were only making them for libraries and universities. For some reason, knowing that there are only a thousand left makes me want to buy one. I'm not going to, but that's how I feel.
When I was little I used to be stuck in the house alone ALL THE TIME. My grandmother would go to work at night and leave me at home with my grandfather who was basically the old guy from Soul Food who never left his room. It's no wonder I'm so boring to my friends nowadays. When I was seven I used to sit in the living room alone at night listening to WTOP (news/talk radio) for hours on end while reading newspapers from cover to cover.
One day I found one book from an old encyclopedia set in the basement. With nothing else to do, I started reading it. Soon I could tell you a little about damned near everything starting with the letter L: Labyrinths, larks, leeks, levers. I read it like it was a novel and when I finished I went searching for the rest. I found them and I engrossed myself in those too. I learned things that solidified my position as a nerd for the rest of my life: ornithology, state flag origins, cartography.
It wasn't all valuable knowledge though. The books were from the 1950s and 60s so a good deal of it was outdated, like the parts referring to computers as huge rooms of machinery. Black people apparently hadn't been invented yet and everything just seemed too happy back then. Still, those books hold a special place in my heart. I learned a lot and they kept me entertained.
I wonder what my life would've been like if I'd had wikipedia and the internet back then. I either would've learned way more or devoted myself to playing Xbox live. (probably the latter)
Friday, April 6, 2012
Mary J Blige and the Chicken of Fire
Crispy chicken, fresh lettuce, three cheeses, ranch dressing wrapped up in a tastyyyy flouuuur tortilla!
I know I'm late, but I just saw the Mary J Blige chicken commercial. All I have to say is HAAAAAAAAAAA!
I must have arthritis in my black power fist or something, because I don't find this video particularly offensive. If Mary wants to sing about chicken, please let her. I have no verification of this but...if they want to pay her two million dollars to sing about chicken, she better! For two million dollars I'd get up there and sing about crack:
It's white and bro-ken
put it in a pipe
and smoke it
Seriously though, I think we need to stop being so self conscious about every little thing. Yes, there is a negative stereotype linking Black people to fried chicken but, guess what, some Black people do eat fried chicken. Don't believe me, go to Popeyes and do some research.
What kind of throws me off is her reaction to it. She says she didn't sign off on it as if they digitally inserted her likeness into the commercial. Mary, you've been out for over twenty years now. We know what you look and sound like. If she really had a problem with the commercial then I imagine that would've come up when she saw the lyrics to the song. Performing the song in front of a camera pretty much strips you of the ability to save face after people complain about it. Take it on the chin, cash your check and keep it moving.
BB King sang "love that chicken from Popeyes." I dare someone to say something to him.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Parallel Worlds
Here's a breakdown of today's events...in two different universes.
Universe 1
I'm 29, I have NO children. It's gonna be a nice day today. I wanna enjoy it but I have things to do. I need to go grocery shopping, hit up Target and do laundry.
At 10 AM I drag the clothes to the laundry room, put them in the washer and set the timer on my phone for 32 minutes. I then run to the car, drive down the street to the grocery store, do my shopping, come home and put everything up just as the timer is going off for me to go switch the clothes over.
At 10:32 AM I've just started the clothes in the dryer, I set the timer on my phone for one hour and I run to the car, drive to Target, shop, come home and put everything up just as the timer for the dryer is going off.
At 11:35 AM I'm done with all my errands and I have the rest of the day to myself.
Universe 2
I'm 29. I have one child, not an army of children, not 17 and counting, it's not Ordale and the wife plus 8. It's just one friggin child. It's a nice day, I wanna enjoy it, but I have things to do. I need to go grocery shopping, hit up Target and do laundry.
At 10 AM I drag the clothes to the laundry room. The child takes off running the other direction down the hall. I put the clothes in the washer, the child starts taking them out. I put the clothes back in the washer, the child tries to escape the laundry room. This repeats for a while.
I set the timer on my phone for 30 minutes and get ready to go to the grocery store. The child starts making the "I have to use the bathroom face." I take her to the pot and she says she doesn't have to go. I begin a CIA style interrogation. "We know you really have to go. We have ways of making you go." The child breaks down and eventually goes. I then get the child dressed...again. I now have ten minutes left on my timer which isn't nearly enough time to go to the store and back. So we wait.
At 10:45 the clothes are ready to be switched over. The child plays hide and seek rather than following orders to leave the apartment. We eventually switch the clothes over. The child again plays the game of taking the clothes out of the dryer as I put them in. This goes on for a while.
11AM, we get ready to head out to the grocery store. One hour is on the timer. I can't find the child's shoe. "Where is your shoe? We have ways of making you talk." The child becomes a special forces agent and is unfazed by interrogation. At 11:15 we find the shoe, but now the sock is missing from her foot. I get a new pair. The child is now dressed fully at 11:19. We're ready to go. The child says, "Ap-ple?" I scoff. "You are not hungry. I just fed you!" The child rebuts, "Ap-ple?" I give the child an apple and we leave. A minor scuffle ensues during the "get in the car seat" moment. We make it to the grocery store, shop, the child is angered over me not buying "Dora the Explorer" related products (fruit roll ups, cereal, other things no way related to the show).
Trying to bring the bags in the house and keep the child from running away proves to be a challenge. We get back, it's now 11:56. Four minutes left on the timer. We get the clothes and now it's time to go to Target. "Chick-en? me Chick-en? Ap-ple? Chick-en? Me?" The child is hungry again. After feeding her, cleaning her up changing her clothes and fighting her to leave the house it is now 1:14 PM. We hit traffic on the way to Target and I turn around and go back home.
It is now 1:45, I'm tired. I don't feel like doing anything. It doesn't matter that it's a beautiful day. I have no intentions of going outside ever again with this child.
And that ladies and gentlemen is a day in the life of me.
Universe 1
I'm 29, I have NO children. It's gonna be a nice day today. I wanna enjoy it but I have things to do. I need to go grocery shopping, hit up Target and do laundry.
At 10 AM I drag the clothes to the laundry room, put them in the washer and set the timer on my phone for 32 minutes. I then run to the car, drive down the street to the grocery store, do my shopping, come home and put everything up just as the timer is going off for me to go switch the clothes over.
At 10:32 AM I've just started the clothes in the dryer, I set the timer on my phone for one hour and I run to the car, drive to Target, shop, come home and put everything up just as the timer for the dryer is going off.
At 11:35 AM I'm done with all my errands and I have the rest of the day to myself.
Universe 2
I'm 29. I have one child, not an army of children, not 17 and counting, it's not Ordale and the wife plus 8. It's just one friggin child. It's a nice day, I wanna enjoy it, but I have things to do. I need to go grocery shopping, hit up Target and do laundry.
At 10 AM I drag the clothes to the laundry room. The child takes off running the other direction down the hall. I put the clothes in the washer, the child starts taking them out. I put the clothes back in the washer, the child tries to escape the laundry room. This repeats for a while.
I set the timer on my phone for 30 minutes and get ready to go to the grocery store. The child starts making the "I have to use the bathroom face." I take her to the pot and she says she doesn't have to go. I begin a CIA style interrogation. "We know you really have to go. We have ways of making you go." The child breaks down and eventually goes. I then get the child dressed...again. I now have ten minutes left on my timer which isn't nearly enough time to go to the store and back. So we wait.
At 10:45 the clothes are ready to be switched over. The child plays hide and seek rather than following orders to leave the apartment. We eventually switch the clothes over. The child again plays the game of taking the clothes out of the dryer as I put them in. This goes on for a while.
11AM, we get ready to head out to the grocery store. One hour is on the timer. I can't find the child's shoe. "Where is your shoe? We have ways of making you talk." The child becomes a special forces agent and is unfazed by interrogation. At 11:15 we find the shoe, but now the sock is missing from her foot. I get a new pair. The child is now dressed fully at 11:19. We're ready to go. The child says, "Ap-ple?" I scoff. "You are not hungry. I just fed you!" The child rebuts, "Ap-ple?" I give the child an apple and we leave. A minor scuffle ensues during the "get in the car seat" moment. We make it to the grocery store, shop, the child is angered over me not buying "Dora the Explorer" related products (fruit roll ups, cereal, other things no way related to the show).
Trying to bring the bags in the house and keep the child from running away proves to be a challenge. We get back, it's now 11:56. Four minutes left on the timer. We get the clothes and now it's time to go to Target. "Chick-en? me Chick-en? Ap-ple? Chick-en? Me?" The child is hungry again. After feeding her, cleaning her up changing her clothes and fighting her to leave the house it is now 1:14 PM. We hit traffic on the way to Target and I turn around and go back home.
It is now 1:45, I'm tired. I don't feel like doing anything. It doesn't matter that it's a beautiful day. I have no intentions of going outside ever again with this child.
And that ladies and gentlemen is a day in the life of me.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
King Marion Barry
DC held elections yesterday and Marion Barry was elected to his third term on the city council. I think by now it's obvious that Southeast is Marion Barry's kingdom and the Big Chair is his throne. I live five wards over so his win has very little affect on me. Still, I rooted for him just a little even though it conflicts with all I've become.
A lot of people are baffled at his political invincibility. Why the hell do they keep electing a (former?) crackhead? I think that it all boils down to electing someone whom you feel represents you. I think you would have to grow up poor and Black in this city to really understand where some of these people are coming from…even if you still wouldn't agree.
Long before he became Mayor, Marion Barry was the people's champion. DC didn't have autonomy and a lot of Black people were just relegated to menial tasks. Some felt like an afterthought in Congress' mind. Enter: Marion Barry--a trash talking guy in a dashiki who left the field of organic chemistry to march with Dr. King in the civil rights movement. His ferocity, sincerity and volition endeared him to the city's downtrodden and disenfranchised Black denizens.
He started an organization called Pride Inc that gave a lot of people jobs and he led marches around town. He became something of a folk hero. Then he became mayor. The first thing he did was start appointing a lot of Black people to high ranking positions. The city government and the police department slowly started shifting to a more African American presence. It was something of a psychological motivator to see people who look like you running your city. "I can do that!" Now I'm not gonna lie and say they all did good jobs, but it did help change people's perception of what avenues were open to them. Then he started screwing up with women, inappropriate behavior and drugs. Then DC became a cesspool of drugs and violence. Then he got caught smoking crack. I have no doubt that his being on drugs is part of the reason things got so bad here, but still people vote for him. Why?
I think that it has a lot to do with economic race relations in this city. Unlike places like NY and Philly where you see poor people of all races huddled together in the hood, DC never really seemed to have a poor White population. The racial lines ran parallel to the income lines and that has always been a source of tension. When I was a kid, everything was relegated to Black/White. We couldn't afford to go eat in Georgetown or anywhere near the zoo or even downtown. We couldn't afford to go to the movie theaters west of Rock Creek Park. Quite frankly, we just stayed away from that side of town altogether. Those places were "for White people."
There were a lot of people who felt that side of town to be closed off to them. It was an economic issue, but on the surface it looked like a racial one and people took it that way. As soon as Marion Barry left office and Tony Williams took over, the economic development in this city took off. New businesses came to town, they constructed a baseball stadium and M St SW started looking less like a giant project complex and more like a place you could feel safe at night. The reoccurring phrase from everyone I grew up with: "They fixing that shit up for White people."
The city couldn't stay poor forever. No one in their right mind enjoyed being the murder capital, but at the same time there was legitimate concern that now that the city was starting to get better, we (lower income Blacks) were getting pushed out. Low income housing projects were razed fairly quickly. I was in college when it happened, but it seemed like in between every Spring, Summer and Fall break I'd come home to see another childhood hotspot torn down. My new adult/mature/accounting-major mind understood that it needed to happen.
It wasn't a good thing that my neighborhood convenience store was really a liquor store where the crackheads used to beg me for money and shoot up in the alley. But despite my intelligence, nostalgia tugs on your heart strings just a bit when you see your childhood home where most of these "mentalstorage" stories took place completely demolished with nothing remotely familiar standing nearby. The store I used to go to for 25 cent candy and 50 cent freeze pops is now a three unit condominium and the new tenants (all White) look at me with trepidation whenever I walk by.
With gentrification comes a raise in property value which in turn raises property taxes and economic development typically means someone is getting displaced. With so much of the city headed that direction, Southeast DC seems like the last frontier. With talk of a waterfront, trolley cars and ferries going from Southeast to Alexandria and the National's Stadium, it just doesn't sound like low income African Americans are the target demographic for such changes. When you consider all of the new developments sprouting up in Southeast, particularly on those really hilly parts where you have clear views of the river, the air force base and the Monument, it's hard to imagine those properties remaining "affordable living dwellings" for very long.
So I think that's where Marion Barry comes in. There's an implicit feeling that even though he can't stop change from rolling on through, he'll remain a resounding voice for those who aren't too keen on it. He lives there, he walks like 'em, talks like 'em and despite his demons, he's the devil they know.
[caption id="attachment_2077" align="alignnone" width="604"]
"Niggas watchin the throne, very happy to be you. Power to the people! When you see me, see you! And I'm from the murder capital..."[/caption]
A lot of people are baffled at his political invincibility. Why the hell do they keep electing a (former?) crackhead? I think that it all boils down to electing someone whom you feel represents you. I think you would have to grow up poor and Black in this city to really understand where some of these people are coming from…even if you still wouldn't agree.
Long before he became Mayor, Marion Barry was the people's champion. DC didn't have autonomy and a lot of Black people were just relegated to menial tasks. Some felt like an afterthought in Congress' mind. Enter: Marion Barry--a trash talking guy in a dashiki who left the field of organic chemistry to march with Dr. King in the civil rights movement. His ferocity, sincerity and volition endeared him to the city's downtrodden and disenfranchised Black denizens.
He started an organization called Pride Inc that gave a lot of people jobs and he led marches around town. He became something of a folk hero. Then he became mayor. The first thing he did was start appointing a lot of Black people to high ranking positions. The city government and the police department slowly started shifting to a more African American presence. It was something of a psychological motivator to see people who look like you running your city. "I can do that!" Now I'm not gonna lie and say they all did good jobs, but it did help change people's perception of what avenues were open to them. Then he started screwing up with women, inappropriate behavior and drugs. Then DC became a cesspool of drugs and violence. Then he got caught smoking crack. I have no doubt that his being on drugs is part of the reason things got so bad here, but still people vote for him. Why?
I think that it has a lot to do with economic race relations in this city. Unlike places like NY and Philly where you see poor people of all races huddled together in the hood, DC never really seemed to have a poor White population. The racial lines ran parallel to the income lines and that has always been a source of tension. When I was a kid, everything was relegated to Black/White. We couldn't afford to go eat in Georgetown or anywhere near the zoo or even downtown. We couldn't afford to go to the movie theaters west of Rock Creek Park. Quite frankly, we just stayed away from that side of town altogether. Those places were "for White people."
There were a lot of people who felt that side of town to be closed off to them. It was an economic issue, but on the surface it looked like a racial one and people took it that way. As soon as Marion Barry left office and Tony Williams took over, the economic development in this city took off. New businesses came to town, they constructed a baseball stadium and M St SW started looking less like a giant project complex and more like a place you could feel safe at night. The reoccurring phrase from everyone I grew up with: "They fixing that shit up for White people."
The city couldn't stay poor forever. No one in their right mind enjoyed being the murder capital, but at the same time there was legitimate concern that now that the city was starting to get better, we (lower income Blacks) were getting pushed out. Low income housing projects were razed fairly quickly. I was in college when it happened, but it seemed like in between every Spring, Summer and Fall break I'd come home to see another childhood hotspot torn down. My new adult/mature/accounting-major mind understood that it needed to happen.
It wasn't a good thing that my neighborhood convenience store was really a liquor store where the crackheads used to beg me for money and shoot up in the alley. But despite my intelligence, nostalgia tugs on your heart strings just a bit when you see your childhood home where most of these "mentalstorage" stories took place completely demolished with nothing remotely familiar standing nearby. The store I used to go to for 25 cent candy and 50 cent freeze pops is now a three unit condominium and the new tenants (all White) look at me with trepidation whenever I walk by.
With gentrification comes a raise in property value which in turn raises property taxes and economic development typically means someone is getting displaced. With so much of the city headed that direction, Southeast DC seems like the last frontier. With talk of a waterfront, trolley cars and ferries going from Southeast to Alexandria and the National's Stadium, it just doesn't sound like low income African Americans are the target demographic for such changes. When you consider all of the new developments sprouting up in Southeast, particularly on those really hilly parts where you have clear views of the river, the air force base and the Monument, it's hard to imagine those properties remaining "affordable living dwellings" for very long.
So I think that's where Marion Barry comes in. There's an implicit feeling that even though he can't stop change from rolling on through, he'll remain a resounding voice for those who aren't too keen on it. He lives there, he walks like 'em, talks like 'em and despite his demons, he's the devil they know.
[caption id="attachment_2077" align="alignnone" width="604"]
"Niggas watchin the throne, very happy to be you. Power to the people! When you see me, see you! And I'm from the murder capital..."[/caption]
An Occurrence At Owl Creek Porch
As I get closer to my 30th birthday I find myself reflecting a lot (hence all of these memory lane posts) and more than anything I just feel thankful for making it this far. Lord knows I've tried my best to take myself out. Let's see there was:
Nearly Drowning
Setting Fires
Electrocution
Falling out of carnival rides
And so many more. Still, nothing says "I want to live" like surviving a good old fashioned hanging.
I was an only child til I was about nine so I had a lot of alone time. When you add that to my vivid imagination, "too smart for my own good" ideas and just a tad bit of child neglect it's only a matter of time before you end up with a self-lynching. When I was about six years old I had this really long rope/clothesline that I used for all of my brilliant inventions. I made this really random rube goldberg machine that was our "security system" where, after opening the front door, an umbrella would swing down and hit you in the head. It was as lame as it sounds, but six year old me liked it.
Anyway...One particular day I tried to play superhero. I started off as Batman and tried to "scale" the tree in front of the house. DC trees, especially the ones owned by the city on the sidewalk are usually pruned so that they grow really high. I made a grappling hook by tying the rope to a small gardening shovel and tossing it up into the tree. I made it about two feet off the ground before the branch snapped.
"Batman sucks anyway." I moved on to being Superman. My grandmother lives in a row house and the front porch sits about fifteen feet off the ground, like a deck almost. I tied one end of the rope to the railing and the other end of the rope around my chest and under my armpits. Then I jumped off. The first thing I noticed was the intense pain as the rope tightened and started cutting into my chest and armpits. I'm no boy scout, but I'm guessing I tied a slip knot. The second thing I realized was that I didn't have a plan to get down.
I was dangling off the ground and the rope was really starting to cut off circulation, so I kind of kicked back and forth until I could reach this little ledge underneath the porch. I made it, pulled one arm out of the rope and then, just as I was pulling the other arm out, I slipped. The rope tightened around my neck and then I had a brand new problem: asphyxiation. Not being able to breathe surprisingly ranked lower than the pain of the thing tightening around my neck and all the blood rushing to my eyes.
If you thought I was kicking before, you should've seen me then. "Live Dammit Live!" I was too low to reach the ledge now and ironically my pointed toes were less than an inch off the ground. I was just high enough to not touch the ground. In my head this went on for about half a day, but obviously I can't be trusted to give you the real approximation. I just know that right before things went dark, I kicked my way to a pile of junk near the basement door and stood up on it enough to breathe and pull the rope from around my neck.
Five minutes later, the rope was in the trash and I went in the house and played Atari like a normal child.
Nearly Drowning
Setting Fires
Electrocution
Falling out of carnival rides
And so many more. Still, nothing says "I want to live" like surviving a good old fashioned hanging.
I was an only child til I was about nine so I had a lot of alone time. When you add that to my vivid imagination, "too smart for my own good" ideas and just a tad bit of child neglect it's only a matter of time before you end up with a self-lynching. When I was about six years old I had this really long rope/clothesline that I used for all of my brilliant inventions. I made this really random rube goldberg machine that was our "security system" where, after opening the front door, an umbrella would swing down and hit you in the head. It was as lame as it sounds, but six year old me liked it.
Anyway...One particular day I tried to play superhero. I started off as Batman and tried to "scale" the tree in front of the house. DC trees, especially the ones owned by the city on the sidewalk are usually pruned so that they grow really high. I made a grappling hook by tying the rope to a small gardening shovel and tossing it up into the tree. I made it about two feet off the ground before the branch snapped.
"Batman sucks anyway." I moved on to being Superman. My grandmother lives in a row house and the front porch sits about fifteen feet off the ground, like a deck almost. I tied one end of the rope to the railing and the other end of the rope around my chest and under my armpits. Then I jumped off. The first thing I noticed was the intense pain as the rope tightened and started cutting into my chest and armpits. I'm no boy scout, but I'm guessing I tied a slip knot. The second thing I realized was that I didn't have a plan to get down.
I was dangling off the ground and the rope was really starting to cut off circulation, so I kind of kicked back and forth until I could reach this little ledge underneath the porch. I made it, pulled one arm out of the rope and then, just as I was pulling the other arm out, I slipped. The rope tightened around my neck and then I had a brand new problem: asphyxiation. Not being able to breathe surprisingly ranked lower than the pain of the thing tightening around my neck and all the blood rushing to my eyes.
If you thought I was kicking before, you should've seen me then. "Live Dammit Live!" I was too low to reach the ledge now and ironically my pointed toes were less than an inch off the ground. I was just high enough to not touch the ground. In my head this went on for about half a day, but obviously I can't be trusted to give you the real approximation. I just know that right before things went dark, I kicked my way to a pile of junk near the basement door and stood up on it enough to breathe and pull the rope from around my neck.
Five minutes later, the rope was in the trash and I went in the house and played Atari like a normal child.
Monday, April 2, 2012
12 Year Old Email
Some emails you never delete
WHAT TIME IS IT? 4:00 pm
Name as it appears on your birth certificate: Iniko Glessie Johnson
Parents' names: Ernesteen and Willie
Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake: 18
Date that you regularly blow them (birthday): May 18th
Pets: Dogs: Current-Rocky (Great Dane ,mixed with Akita), Past- Sunny and Fluffy Height:5'5 1/2
Eye color: brown
Piercings: none
Tattoos:none but maybe some henna ones soon
Scars: Im a dancer so I have entirely toooooo many
Hometown: DC Big Baby!
HAVE YOU EVER...?
Had the drink Calypso Breeze? nope
Been in love? Yep, and I still am, isn't that right Eric Benet?
Been toilet-papered(TPd)? have you been toilet papered?
Loved somebody so much it makes you cry? mi familia
(THIS? Or THAT?)
Croutons or Bacon Bits: croutons
2 doors or 4 (on a car) : 4 please.
Mr. Pibb or Dr. Pepper: Gross
Blanket or Stuffed Animal: Stuffed Animal
Shampoo or Conditioner: With my hair you cannot have one without the other!
Bridges or Tunnels?: Stupid or Stupid Question?
One pillow or two: I prefer 5 for show but one to sleep
Adidas or Nike: Adidas
Nike or Reebok: Nikoe
Adidas or Reebok: adidas
WORD ASSOCIATION
(FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND)
RUBBER GLOVES: Touch-up
ROCK: solid
GREEN: sick
WET: (too easy)
CRY: never
PEANUT BUTTER: jelly
HAY: whats up
PAPER: or plastic
Subj: I was Bored!
Date: 12/27/1999 4:32:52 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: nikoj1@yahoo.com (Iniko Johnson)
To: Angelofwar2000@aol.com(Ordale Allen)
Date: 12/27/1999 4:32:52 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: nikoj1@yahoo.com (Iniko Johnson)
To: Angelofwar2000@aol.com(Ordale Allen)
OK, here's what you are supposed to do. "Copy" this entire e-mail and then change the answers so that they apply to you. Then, send this out to everyone you know, including the person who originally sent it to you, and you just may learn a thing or two.
WHAT TIME IS IT? 4:00 pm
Name as it appears on your birth certificate: Iniko Glessie Johnson
Parents' names: Ernesteen and Willie
Number of candles that appeared on your last birthday cake: 18
Date that you regularly blow them (birthday): May 18th
Pets: Dogs: Current-Rocky (Great Dane ,mixed with Akita), Past- Sunny and Fluffy Height:5'5 1/2
Eye color: brown
Piercings: none
Tattoos:none but maybe some henna ones soon
Scars: Im a dancer so I have entirely toooooo many
Hometown: DC Big Baby!
HAVE YOU EVER...?
Had the drink Calypso Breeze? nope
Been in love? Yep, and I still am, isn't that right Eric Benet?
Been toilet-papered(TPd)? have you been toilet papered?
Loved somebody so much it makes you cry? mi familia
(THIS? Or THAT?)
Croutons or Bacon Bits: croutons
2 doors or 4 (on a car) : 4 please.
Mr. Pibb or Dr. Pepper: Gross
Blanket or Stuffed Animal: Stuffed Animal
Shampoo or Conditioner: With my hair you cannot have one without the other!
Bridges or Tunnels?: Stupid or Stupid Question?
One pillow or two: I prefer 5 for show but one to sleep
Adidas or Nike: Adidas
Nike or Reebok: Nikoe
Adidas or Reebok: adidas
WORD ASSOCIATION
(FIRST THING THAT COMES TO MIND)
RUBBER GLOVES: Touch-up
ROCK: solid
GREEN: sick
WET: (too easy)
CRY: never
PEANUT BUTTER: jelly
HAY: whats up
PAPER: or plastic
WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE...
Salad Dressing: ranch
Color of Socks: white
Number: The number of blessings Ive received
Memory: uhauh
Toothpaste: Tartar Control Crest
Food: Chicken
Perfume/Cologne: Whispering Mist
Song at the moment: Say My Name
TV show: Whats TV ( Im in college)
Least Favorite Word: can't
Toothbrush: a good one
Subject in School: performance (dance, acting, singing)
Flower: white rose
Restaurant: olive garden
Least Favorite Subject: Political Science
ALOHOLIC DRINK: strawberry daquiri
Sport to Watch: ice skating
Salad Dressing: ranch
Color of Socks: white
Number: The number of blessings Ive received
Memory: uhauh
Toothpaste: Tartar Control Crest
Food: Chicken
Perfume/Cologne: Whispering Mist
Song at the moment: Say My Name
TV show: Whats TV ( Im in college)
Least Favorite Word: can't
Toothbrush: a good one
Subject in School: performance (dance, acting, singing)
Flower: white rose
Restaurant: olive garden
Least Favorite Subject: Political Science
ALOHOLIC DRINK: strawberry daquiri
Sport to Watch: ice skating
Do You Drink? I don't know what you're talking about
How many times did you fail your Permit and\ or Drivers test
License Test: Perfect Score the first time
Do you believe in Oijie Boards: nope
Where do you see your self in 10 years? Chilling on the deck of my 2.5 million dollar home in Jamaica with my husband Eric Benet sipping a strawberry daquiri and talking to Janet about my last Emmy and discussing when we were going to begin rehearsals for the next tour.(OK, maybe I'll just be drinking a snapple:))
What type of car do you drive now: A BMW (Bus, Metro, Walk)
What do you do most often when you are bored: sleep, play family feud with fellow Midd folks, Steve, Niko, and Jay, check email, make up choreography, sing, etc.(Even when Im bored, Im not really bored)
Name the person that you are friends with that lives the
farthest away from you: My childhood bestfriend Tony (Pretty Tony whatdecallem)
Bedtime: Whats that (Im in college)
Humiliating Moment: Just ask my best friend Leonard, he can tell you all of them.
Loudest person: My sister-girl Maika
Who will respond to this fastest: dont know
Who is the person you sent this to that is least likely to
respond? dont care
WHAT TIME IS IT NOW? I wish it was time to get off of work but it is only 4:30
How many times did you fail your Permit and\ or Drivers test
License Test: Perfect Score the first time
Do you believe in Oijie Boards: nope
Where do you see your self in 10 years? Chilling on the deck of my 2.5 million dollar home in Jamaica with my husband Eric Benet sipping a strawberry daquiri and talking to Janet about my last Emmy and discussing when we were going to begin rehearsals for the next tour.(OK, maybe I'll just be drinking a snapple:))
What type of car do you drive now: A BMW (Bus, Metro, Walk)
What do you do most often when you are bored: sleep, play family feud with fellow Midd folks, Steve, Niko, and Jay, check email, make up choreography, sing, etc.(Even when Im bored, Im not really bored)
Name the person that you are friends with that lives the
farthest away from you: My childhood bestfriend Tony (Pretty Tony whatdecallem)
Bedtime: Whats that (Im in college)
Humiliating Moment: Just ask my best friend Leonard, he can tell you all of them.
Loudest person: My sister-girl Maika
Who will respond to this fastest: dont know
Who is the person you sent this to that is least likely to
respond? dont care
WHAT TIME IS IT NOW? I wish it was time to get off of work but it is only 4:30
__________________________________________________
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Every Day I'm Hustlin
Random memory # 245-c
They used to call me Hustleman back in high school. I tried to make a profit on everything. I always sold fundraiser candy for twice the price. I figured they weren't getting free labor outta me. The school store was shut down by the board of education, so they dumped all the inventory. I went and got a janitor's trashcan on wheels and rolled as much of it as I could grab back to my locker. Sold it. I was the only student to volunteer to come back and clean the lockers over the summer. The principal let me have whatever I found. I'd sell people their clothes and stuff back the next year. I had a stash of TI-83 calculators that I was selling for $40 to freshmen. I just had this entrepreneurial spirit.
We'd have pizza parties in homeroom and I'd never chip in. It seemed stupid to put in five bucks for two slices of pizza and a little styrofoam cup of soda. I'd go to the payphone and call in my own order using a "buy one, get one free" coupon. $13 bucks got me two pizzas. I'd eat half of one pizza and sell the remaining slices of that pizza to the people who were still hungry in my homeroom for a dollar a slice. Then I'd turn around and take that second pizza around to the other homerooms that didn't have a pizza party and sell the slices for two bucks. If you do the math...I actually made money:
Pizza #1 had 4 slices left. Each slice sold for $1.... $4 total.
Pizza #2 had 8 slices. Each slice sold for $2....$16 total.
$16 +$4=$20
After you take out the $13 I paid initially, I made $7 on the pizza party.
I think I'll live in infamy for my "School Trip Catering Service." We'd go on these four-day ski trips and college tours. I could barely afford to go on the trip, let alone buy food at our destination. So I just started taking a whole lotta food to eat on over the four days. I had a 22 piece from Popeyes, cereal, snack foods, sandwiches, a frozen gallon of juice and a gallon of water. I started selling the food and before you knew it, it was my thing. I'd show up to the bus with two duffel bags of food. Everyone else had maybe a sandwich or a bag of chips, nobody was thinking that far ahead. As night crept up and stomachs started rumbling..."Hey Ordale, you got any of that chicken left?" (Yep...$4) Four bucks got you a piece of chicken, some chips, a little cup of juice and Little Debbie brownie. I even had Alka-Seltzer and Tylenol. One year I made about $100...profit.
I sell ice in the winter
I sell fire in hell
I am a hustler baby
I'll sell water to a well
They used to call me Hustleman back in high school. I tried to make a profit on everything. I always sold fundraiser candy for twice the price. I figured they weren't getting free labor outta me. The school store was shut down by the board of education, so they dumped all the inventory. I went and got a janitor's trashcan on wheels and rolled as much of it as I could grab back to my locker. Sold it. I was the only student to volunteer to come back and clean the lockers over the summer. The principal let me have whatever I found. I'd sell people their clothes and stuff back the next year. I had a stash of TI-83 calculators that I was selling for $40 to freshmen. I just had this entrepreneurial spirit.
We'd have pizza parties in homeroom and I'd never chip in. It seemed stupid to put in five bucks for two slices of pizza and a little styrofoam cup of soda. I'd go to the payphone and call in my own order using a "buy one, get one free" coupon. $13 bucks got me two pizzas. I'd eat half of one pizza and sell the remaining slices of that pizza to the people who were still hungry in my homeroom for a dollar a slice. Then I'd turn around and take that second pizza around to the other homerooms that didn't have a pizza party and sell the slices for two bucks. If you do the math...I actually made money:
Pizza #1 had 4 slices left. Each slice sold for $1.... $4 total.
Pizza #2 had 8 slices. Each slice sold for $2....$16 total.
$16 +$4=$20
After you take out the $13 I paid initially, I made $7 on the pizza party.
I think I'll live in infamy for my "School Trip Catering Service." We'd go on these four-day ski trips and college tours. I could barely afford to go on the trip, let alone buy food at our destination. So I just started taking a whole lotta food to eat on over the four days. I had a 22 piece from Popeyes, cereal, snack foods, sandwiches, a frozen gallon of juice and a gallon of water. I started selling the food and before you knew it, it was my thing. I'd show up to the bus with two duffel bags of food. Everyone else had maybe a sandwich or a bag of chips, nobody was thinking that far ahead. As night crept up and stomachs started rumbling..."Hey Ordale, you got any of that chicken left?" (Yep...$4) Four bucks got you a piece of chicken, some chips, a little cup of juice and Little Debbie brownie. I even had Alka-Seltzer and Tylenol. One year I made about $100...profit.
I sell ice in the winter
I sell fire in hell
I am a hustler baby
I'll sell water to a well
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