First Day of School

As I was getting ready to leave the house for work this morning, I heard something I haven’t heard for months this early in the morning, the sound of kids talking. Yes, it’s back to school time. As I drove down the street, past a few bus stops, I realized something. None of these kids were “Fresh to death”. Nobody had on the hot new sneakers, or nothing. I started thinking back to how the first day of school was when I was growing up and one of my most memorable first day of school.

I would always spend the summers in Syracuse New York with my grandmother and my aunts. The thing I loved most was them taking me school shopping right before I went home to Virginia. I would always have clothes that no one else had because I didn’t have to school shop at Coliseum Mall, Newmarket Mall, or god forbid Peddlers Village like the other Newport News city school kids. The summer before my 7th grade year, I got hooked up with all types of nice clothes. I got bout 5 pair of new jeans, 6 or 7 shirts and 2 pair of Nike kicks.

My girl cousins in Syracuse even told me what new outfit to wear first and how to rock it. So when I would get back to Virginia about 2 weeks before school started I already had everything planned out. I took my new clothes in a carry on bag just in case the airline lost my luggage, or the baggage handlers saw my gear and decided to jack me for my new clothes. Then as soon as I got home, I ironed, and hung up my new clothes to make sure they were extra fresh. I ended up trying everything on about 3 more times to make sure it still looked right and to make sure I remembered how my cousins told me to rock each outfit.

So the night before the first day of school came around and I couldn’t sleep that night. Part of it was the anxiety of seeing all of my friends I didn’t see all summer who would be in my class. Some of it was seeing if Tamisha’s booty had gotten “phatter”. But most of it was me lying in the bed staring at that magical first day outfit and all its splendor. I swear, the room was pitch black but I could see that outfit as if it had a spotlight on it.

So after getting what seemed like 4 hours of sleep, it was time to wake up. This was the only morning that my mom didn’t have to wake me up. I was up before her getting showered and ready. I took my doo rag off and massaged my forehead so that I wouldn’t have that line showing by the time I got to school. After eating breakfast, I grabbed my new Reebok Pump book bag and headed to the bus stop.

On my way downstairs the elevator stopped on the 12th floor. I was praying it was Tamisha, who I hadn’t seen all summer because she spent her summer in NC. The elevator door opened and yes, it was her. She was rocking some tight jeans with a fresh hair doo, and yes, her booty had gotten phatter. As soon as I saw her I started smiling. She was like “Look at you with the new gear and new kicks, where you get that from”. I told her I got it in NY, and I could see she was digging that I wasn't going to be rocking the same gear as everyone else.

The rest of the day was me high fiving all of my partners that I hadn’t seen all summer and talking about which chicks came back better or busted. Everything about that first day was great except me getting the meanest teacher in the 7th grade. But even that turned out to be a blessing as she really pushed me throughout the year. I’ve always said that I’m so glad that I never went to private school or had to wear a uniform to school. What fun would the first day of school be if you were wearing the same thing as everyone else?

Hey Mr. DJ.....

Ever since I was a little kid I've always wanted to be a DJ. I remember standing behind the DJ booth at my aunt and uncle's wedding watching the DJ spin the latest jams. I liked how he had control of the party. Every time he put on a new record, the crowd danced harder and had more fun. Every 5 minutes someone would come up to the DJ and give him props because he had the party jumping.

Since then, I've always wanted to be a DJ but I never did it. Well last week I was leaving the gym and the Director told me about the member cookout they were having. Then she asked me if I knew of a DJ that she could hire and she would pay them $300. Well, I aint no damn dummy so I told her I could do it. I never once told her that I had no equipment or experience but for a chance to make $300 in an afternoon, I figured "I got 2 degrees, this can't be that hard".

So the first thing I did was hit up Google to find out where I could rent some speakers and a mixer. Then I hit the hot 99 radio website to find their play list. The gym I go to is mad family friendly (YMCA) so I knew songs like "My Neck, My Back", "Put It In Your Mouth", and "P***Y Poppin" were off limits. I ended up downloading (for free of course) Miley Cyrus aka Hanna Montana, Chris Brown, Rihanna, Jonas Brothers, and the soundtrack for High School Musical.

So Friday, armed with my laptop, 2 rented JBL speakers, a mixer, and 2 virtual turntables (thanks to a pirated copy of Virtual DJ software) I headed to the venue. As I unpack the speakers, open the mixer, and start to set up, I realized I aint know what the hell I was doing. After a call back to the spot where I rented the speakers, I realized that I had the speakers plugged into the wrong channel. So I got that all set up and started cranking the tunes.

Overall it went well. Only one complaint, and that was from some lady who called me rude. I guess she thought I was playing music for no good reason, and didn't realize they were throwing the member cookout. I guess the big ass grill with hot dogs and hamburgers wasn't enough of a clue. Anyway, people danced to my mix of Jackson 5 hits, and I got compliments for playing a wide variety of music. I even got 2 more gigs lined up, and a few more "Do you have a card" inquires. So if anyone needs a DJ, hit me up mistahsmif@hotmail.com. I'll do weddings, quinceaneras, Bar Mitzvah's, Sweet 16's or anything else you can think of.

But I Never Have A Problem With My First Class Seat....

I don't fly that often, but I do hit the sky every now and then. After the drive to San Diego I decided to buy a Buddy Pass for the trip back home. If you don't know, there are rules to flying on a Buddy Pass. With a Buddy Pass you have to fly standby with the lowest priority, but if you get a flight you can fly first class if a seat is available. If people who missed a flight try to get on the flight you want to take, you will be bumped. Therefore, flying on a Friday or Sunday is not a good idea. I was told that flying on a Monday is good because not as many people fly on Monday as they do on Friday and Sunday. So Monday morning I wake up at 4:30 trying to catch the first flight out of San Diego.

We get to the airport and I automatically knew that it was going to be trouble. The airport was packed. The line was crazy just to park and let me out the car. I get inside the airport and the line for my airline was long as hell. After waiting 15 minutes, I check my bag and get my boarding pass. My flight was leaving in 30 minutes, but the TSA line was looking long as hell too. After the 25 minute wait, I rushed to put on my shoes and ran to the terminal for my flight. I get to the counter and the agent tells me that the flight was full. No problem, there was another flight leaving for Atlanta in 1 hour.

So I kill time by going to the airport McDonald's to eat a $10 breakfast of 2 biscuit sandwiches and a drink. After breakfast, I go to the gate for the next flight to Atlanta and it's looking crowded. The agent tells me that this flight is full and gives me another boarding pass for the next flight to Atlanta. That flight comes and goes without me as it is over booked as well. It gets to be noon and I'm still in San Diego. After missing the next 2 flights to Atlanta, it's 6:00 and I'm told my last hope for the evening is to catch the "Red Eye" at 10pm to Atlanta. I'm sitting there getting pissed off and a guy who worked for the airline who was stranded in Atlanta himself starts telling me to look for other flights and not just flying through Atlanta to get to DC and he tells me I can catch the flight he is going to try to take to Salt Lake City and get to DC from there. I tell him that I will take my chances on the "Red Eye" cause I'm not a fan of Salt Lake City. Actually, I hate the damn Utah Jazz and that was my reasoning.

So I sit for a few hours and wait for the red eye to Atlanta. As I'm sitting there I notice a brother, a Spanish chick, and another Spanish chick with her 10 year old daughter all with buddy passes. So we talk and tell each other our horror stories about our day in the airport.

So the boarding starts for the red eye and they are calling about 10 names and the people who they are calling are nowhere in sight. The gate agent runs to the TSA checkpoint to see if they are there held up by security but they're not. So the agent says "OK" and starts calling us Buddy Pass holders to line up. So we line up and we are about to walk down the ramp onto the airplane when them 10 niggas who they were calling come running toward the gate, McDonald's bags in hand. Man I wanted to cuss them bamma ass niggas out so bad. The gate agent tells them that their seats were about to be given away and in true ghetto fashion they say that they were held up by security. Are you serious? When in the hell did TSA start serving Double Quarter Pounders and nuggets? So they board the plane and the agent says that she is going to check to see if any seats were left. I already knew her answer before she came back and told us all the bad news. Not to mention the plane started backing up from the gate before she got back to where we were lined up. So us 5 Buddy Pass holders look at each other and take our seat because we knew we were about to spend the night at the airport.

Talking to the other 4 people I learned that the brother was trying to get home to Atlanta so he could get up the next morning and drive to Chicago to pick up his son and daughter. The Spanish chick that was by her self was trying to get to Texas so she could get her car and drive back to San Diego with her husband. And the Spanish chick with her daughter was in San Diego for a Quincera and was trying to get back to Atlanta to her new born baby that was only 3 weeks old. After talking for a few hours we all start to nod off.

I was sleeping well for sitting on an airport bench when airport security notifies us all that we have to go back to the airport entrance because they had to do a security sweep. So we all walk over there and get in line to get boarding passes. The agent told me that my best bet was to go through Salt Lake City because the Atlanta flight was overbooked. After getting my boarding pass for the Salt Lake City flight and a grande coffee from Starbucks I head to the gate.

The area is packed, and I knew I would not make this flight either. As I'm waiting this crazy looking chick starts telling me about how she just got back from Jamaica and how the US exploits Jamaica and how impoverished Jamaica is. I mean I like Shabba Ranks, Beanie Man, and weed like the next person, but I just wasn't trying to hear what she was telling me. Then she asks me to watch her bag so she can go to Starbucks. I agree, even though I knew I wasn't supposed to and she came back and gave me a sandwich that she bought me for watching her bag. I tell her thank you and receive the bad news that the flight to SLC was full. I take my sandwich and walk towards the Atlanta flight, but I knew that flight was full as the 4 people who spent the night with me at the airport was still waiting.

As I walked away in disgust, I hear the final boarding call for a flight to New York. I asked the agent if there was room and there was, so he printed me a pass and I walked on the airplane. I looked at my pass for my seat assignment and see that I'm in seat 3D. Yesssss, First Class. Then I remembered them Atlanta niggas who came at the last minute and decided not to get happy until we were up in the air. Well this time, there was no surprises and we were off.

First Class was lovely. Big ass leather seats, breakfast, drinks, and free TV. So after my breakfast with all the trimmins and 4 vodka and tonics I leaned back in my leather seat and watched 2 episodes of The Wire. After landing at JFK airport I had to catch a shuttle to Laguardia, run through that airport like OJ Simpson just to catch my flight to DC. Well I made it back to DC. Thanks to my lucky sandwich which I held in my hand for the entire flight from San Diego to NY and NY to DC. And I made it to DC 39 hours after I originally got to the San Diego airport.

Road Trip Part 2

Day 2 of the road trip was very lack luster. We left West Memphis Arkansas at about 9am. Arkansas was one of the worst states to drive through. That is until we got to Oklahoma. Oklahoma was just as boring as Arkansas, maybe even worse. So we ended up stopping at a subway in some remote part of Oklahoma, which was across the street from the oldest Wal-Mart in America. We went inside the Wal-Mart for some supplies and those folks were looking at us like we were the first black people to ever step foot in that Wal-Mart. Then I realized that we probably were the first black people to step foot in that Wal-Mart.

After leaving the state of Oklahoma, we entered Texas. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a Redskins fan, so anything that has to do with Dallas and the state of Texas can eat a fat one. Well my cousin is also a Redskins fan so it was only right that we pull over on the side of the road to piss on the state of Texas. Our next stop was at a What A Burger in Amarillo,TX. I don’t usually eat fast food anymore, but back in my college days What A Burger was one of my favorites (and the ketchup they use is the best ketchup ever), so I had to order a double What A Burger with cheese. After dinner, we kept driving until we reached Albuquerque NM and got a hotel room.

Day 3 started in New Mexico and took us into Arizona. So while we were driving through Arizona, we saw signs for the Grand Canyon. After using my trusty Blackberry phone, equipped with Google maps, I realized that the Grand Canyon was only an hour out of the way so we decided to check it out. After driving on a road with a 100 foot drop off and no guard rail, we reached the Grand Canyon. It was cool and I got some good pictures, but I think the bigger of the 2 parks was another hour out of the way. We pull up to the park and notice that there is a toll booth. $25 to see the Grand Canyon? How in the hell are they allowed to make you pay to look at a big ass hole in the ground. That’s like charging $25 to look at the Potomac. But since we had already paid we were like F-it.After we left the Grand Canyon out next stop was Phoenix.

I know people say that desert heat is different and sometimes better than east coast humid heat, but I have to disagree. I stepped out the car at El Pollo Loco in Phoenix, and it felt like a sauna. I thought we had parked next to an open oven. I realized that there is no way I could live in Phoenix. So after we left Phoenix we entered Yuma Arizona where it was 102 degrees at 10:00 pm. 3 hours later we were in San Diego where it was 75 degrees. I don’t know how the temperature changed so drastically in 3 hours, but as hot as it was in Arizona I didn’t care.

San Diego was a cool city. Of course we hit Tijuana where a cab driver offered to take us to see a "donkey show", and little kids were trying to sell everything from Chickletts to necklaces. Tijuana is also where they will pull you into a club, literally grab you by the head and throw a shot of tequilla down your throat. Then charge you $5 for it.

We also ended up going to a San Diego Padres game for $9. I spent more on beer than I did on the damn game. Over all, it was a good trip. That is until I tried to leave San Diego...... To Be Continued..........

Road Trip

My cousin who recently graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy was stationed in San Diego CA. So instead of shipping his car and flying, he decides to drive cross country from VA to San Diego. And of course, like a fool I said I'd ride with him. I must admit, I've always wanted to drive cross country and this was the best chance to do it. So armed with a car full of his clothes, a laptop that wanted to work after the trip was over, and 2 4GB Ipods we left for San Diego.

We were supposed to leave Monday morning, but the going away cookout lasted well into Sunday night and early Monday morning. So after we woke up and got ready we left Hopewell VA at noon on Monday.

Day 1:

The first leg of the trip was pretty much lack luster for most of the day. We drove through western VA and into Tennessee. Tennessee doesn't look that big on the map, but damnit it seemed like it took forever to through Tennessee. We stopped in Knoxville and rode around the University of Tennessee but since it is the summer, nothing was really going on. We decided that we'd drive to Memphis and stop there for the night.

We pulled into Memphis at about 1:30 am tired, but ready to ride around Memphis to see if any Strip Clubs were open. As we rode around downtown and past Beale Street, we see the sign for the Civil Rights Museum and decide to ride by it. We both knew what the Civil Rights Museum in Memphis was luckily because if we didn't we'd have thought what was the point of going to a museum at 1:30 am when it would probably be closed. So as we were following the signs and riding towards it I looked down the street and saw it, "The Lorraine Hotel".

Other than the lights from the hotel, it was pretty dark but we decided to get out and take pictures (I will post pics later). Now, I watch First 48 and I know Memphis aint a place where you want to get out the car and walk around at 1:30 am. But, we had to do it. Plus, you would have to be as low as whale shit to rob someone where Martin Luther King died. So we walked up and took pictures of the hotel and the room he was shot outside of. I've been to a lot of memorials, but something about this one was different. I really can't even explain the feeling I had looking at the hotel and the room that they had roped off. After about 10 minutes we left. Needless to say, after being at the hotel where MLK died, we decided that we shouldn't go to the strip club and we went in search of a hotel.

We decided that downtown Memphis would be too expensive for a room so we headed across the Mississippi river and into West Memphis to rest for the night. As we got into the room I didn't feel tired (my cousin drove the entire day) so I decided to work on this blog. I tried to fire up the laptop but it wouldn't turn on for some reason, so I said forget it and went to sleep......... To be continued.

Frozen.....For 2 months

Apparently, I have been frozen like David Blaine by my man G-Mo and wasn’t allowed to post another blog until I “thawed” myself by posting this blog. I guess technically I could have but I want to abide by the bloggers code since I am new to this. Well, thanks for the inspiration G.
Here are the rules:



-Link the person who tagged you.-Mention the rules in your blog.



-Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours.



-Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them.



-Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger's blogs letting them know they've been tagged


6 Quirks


1. I hate people sitting behind me on the Metro. Ok, some of you are probably saying to yourself “I wish I could get a seat on the Metro”. But I have been spoiled. Riding the Green Line in from Greenbelt in the morning, I’m among the first people on the train. And if I time it right, I can catch the 7:30 am 8 car train and it’s usually only 4 or 5 people in the last car with me. So then, why is it that someone will come and sit directly behind me when there are seats available everywhere else on the train? It pisses me off and I’ll usually move. Not before I ice grill the person who invaded my personal space first. Now when the train is crowded, I don’t care, but if it’s not damn it gimmie my buffer zone.


2. I randomly say rap lyrics to myself out loud. I can be chilling in the house playing Madden, driving, at work, or on the Metro and I will just blurt out a random rap lyric. As a matter of fact this morning when I woke up I said out loud “Rich bitch shit, drinkin Cristal till they piss the shit UNHHH” Notorious B.I.G (You’re Nobody Till Somebody Kills You). One of my favorite lines to recite “Wake up in the morning got the yearning for herb” Channel Live (Mad Izm). I just hope I never blurt that out loud at work.


3. Like the dude that froze me G-Mo, I’m a pack rat (or boxer) too. I don’t have much stuff from the 80’s (my mom threw a lot of my stuff away) I still have my 2 way pager from the days of FAMU. I also have my first Redskin’s shirt with my name on it. I still have old college acceptance letters, SAT scores, and velour sweat suits. I’d still have my big ass WWF wrestling glass with Hulk Hogan, Junk Yard Dog, Rowdy Roddy Piper, and Nickoli Volkoff on it and my Redskins Super Bowl XXII victory mug but some bitchass broke in my crib while I was in the process of moving and stole both of them. Yes, that’s all they took. Then again, that’s all that was left. That and a cable modem but I guess when they plugged it in and it didn’t start playing go-go music the thief felt it was of no value.


4. I crack my knuckles obsessively. About every 2 minutes. There is a myth that cracking your knuckles will give you arthritis but it as to be false or my fingers would look like they had been beaten with a sledge hammer.

5. I have a crazy memory. I am terrible with faces and directions, but pointless trivia and little insignificant details of my life I am great at remembering. I can remember my pediatrician Dr. Familot’s waiting room having 2 seating sections: Sick as a Dog, and Healthy as a Horse. I remember my white friend Nathan singing the Hall and Oates song “Out of Touch” but he was saying “Piranha Touch”. I can go on for days about the dumb shit I remember.

6. I laugh for what seems to be no reason at all, but it’s actually because I am thinking about something funny that happened. I do it all the time. I caught myself doing it at the grocery store the other day. I was in line and was thinking about the time when my drunk cousin fell at Christmas dinner, right after the prayer was finished. It was “Amen”, and then she hit the floor like Flo-Rida. And the worst part was, it happened right by me so I had to be the Good Samaritan and help her up. This happened over five years ago, but anytime I think about it I just start laughing out loud.

I'm going to freeze the followin people, but since I'm new to the blogging world they will probably pay me no attention. Hell, they probably don't know who I am:

Metro Man
Bag Lady
Imnotarolemodel
Chris Cooley
Dhaani-James
Field-Negro

Ass whipppins

Do you remember that epic ass whipping that you got as a kid (or teenager) that forever changed your life? I’m talking, an ass whipping so good that to this day you haven’t done that deed that got ya ass whipped again.

I can remember it like it was yesterday. I was about 6 or 7 when this happened. It was a school night and I had just gotten out of the bathtub. I smelled like Mr. Bubble and had on my fresh Tanto (Yes, the Lone Ranger's sidekick) Underoos. I walked into the kitchen and saw my mom talking on the phone. She put the receiver down and told me that she would fix me a bowl of ice cream when she got off the phone. So I sat in the kitchen for what seemed like hours but in all actually it was probably more like 2 or 3 minutes. So feeling bored, I decided to go into the living room to pass the time until my mom finally got off the phone and started scooping the ice cream. While in the living room something came over me (temporary insanity) and I decided to pass the time by jumping on the couch. Man, was I having fun. I jumped from one end to the other, did twists; even did poses in mid air before landing back on the couch. I was having so much fun, I didn’t notice that my mom had come around the corner and saw me jumping on the couch.

Next thing I know I hear her say to whoever was on the phone “Girl, this boy done lost his damn mind jumping on my couch. I’m bout to beat his ass, and I’m gonna call you right back”. Knowing that I was bout to get an ass whipping, the first thing I thought to do was run. If I ran and jumped in the bed maybe I could just get away with having to go to bed with no ice cream. Or if she started swinging the belt, I could use the covers as protection. But it was too late. By the time I decided to run, my mom had hung up the phone, went to the room, and got the belt. Man she whipped my ass. And I had just gotten out the tub and was still damp so the belt had an extra sting to it (kind of like getting snapped with a towel after getting out of the swimming pool). And my mom used to talk and whip my ass in syllables. You know, “Boy, you, must, be, out, yo, mind, jumpin, on, my, couch, like, you, cra-zy……..”.

So after what seemed like an eternity of an ass whippin I was sent to bed (no ice cream of course). So while I was lying in bed still trying to catch my breath, I get the worst insult to injury ever. I hear my mom get back on the phone and say “Girl, I whipped his ass good”. I mean it’s bad enough she whipped my ass like my name was Toby, but she was bragging about it. Well apparently that ass whipping taught me a lesson. To this day I have not jumped on a couch. Not even my own couch that I paid for with my own money. I just can’t bring myself to do it. Maybe one day, I’ll get the courage to jump on my couch, but right now I still feel the effects of that mighty ass whipping.