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Wednesday, July 21, 2010

I Miss....

My trip with my youngest son to the National Basketball Championships has been wonderful. I've watched him do what he loves (and he's damn good). He and his team are a few games away from being nationally ranked in the country. I'm chillin and relaxin with some of the other parents, and enjoying some of the things that we love to do once our kids are asleep......drinkin, playin spades, comparing different types of weed. I'm havin a blast!!

I'm talking to my other two youngins, EVERYDAY. My oldest son calls me every hour, on the hour, and texts me thirty minutes between those hours. But I ain't mad at that little talkative, nosey, use-the-phone-too-much muufukka, that is just like his daddy.

And of course, I always talk to my little girl. I can't turn in without an update on what happened at camp, and a list of the shit her older brother did that compels her to taddle. Tryna make sure I don't miss a beat.

While I'm here having a great time, I do miss being back home. The simple things that I usually have access to tend to be a big deal when I don't have them. My own bathroom, my own bed, my own privacy and shit.

I miss Stephen too......

While all of the parents are tryin to get with each other, and all of the fellas are tryin to secretly see who's gay, bi, and DL, I'm missin Stephen. One guy asked if I wanted to go downtown for drinks and a strip club. "Nah man. I'm good.", I told him. I got Stephen on the brain. I miss sittin and layin up watchin TV with him. I miss watchin him eat a big ass piece of chocolate cake before going to the gym (and the nigga is still in shape--ole bitch). I miss kissing him and holding him, stroking the back of his neck and playin with his ears, looking at his smile and hearing him breathe in my ear. Dayum!! I miss that muthafukka.

I've only been here for four days. But each day and night, I'm thinking about what I want to do with him when I get back. Go to breakfast, watch old shows in syndication, grab a movie, drink up some shit. Trap him in his bed and not let him go anywhere. Wrestle all over the bed, fukkin up the sheets, and kissin that nigga all over his sexy ass body. Make him squirm as I touch, kiss, feel, and nibble on every piece of flesh I can. I need to hurry the fuck up and show him how much I miss his ass. Plus, I just need to lay with him, and talk to him until we fall asleep. Because I miss that nigga.

So when I get back, I'm gonna take my oldest son out for lunch, hang out with my daughter, spend some quality time with all three of my rugrats, and show them all the shit I got for them. And then I'm gonna find that sexy muufukka and give him a reason to call in.

Monday, July 19, 2010

There She Goes Again.....

I have been out of town with my youngest son, attending the National Championships for AAU Basketball. He and his team are slated to potentially win the whole thing.

While I love traveling with my children, I'm not crazy about leaving one or more of them behind. My eldest son did not attend the Nationals this year for his age group, since his coach decided at the last moment to withdraw from attendance. Not crazy about that decision at all. And this week he starts football camp. So travel with me would not be possible. Since I'm across the country running behind a basketball team, it didn't make sense for my daughter to tag along.

So it shouldn't come as a surprise that Gargamel would start some crazy shit, simply, because it's what she does. Check this. The bitch accused me of dumping my other two children and treating my middle child better. "You should have canceled this trip to the AAU Championships since both boys could not attend", she said. So let me get this shit straight. I should punish one child for the decision of the other child's coach? I should deny one child an opportunity to play for a national championship because his older brother is coached by an idiot? I love one child more than the others because I took this trip with him?

I'm thinking that it's not worth being offended. It's not worth asking 'What the Fuck?'. It's really not worth writing about. I just wanted to give ya'll something to laugh at. Some conversations with her simply confirm that our shit is way over. Some arguments aren't worth having. I'm telling you......a therapist, a glass of henny, and a J will help a muufukka out. All of you crazy folks that know your shit is fukked up, get yourself a good therapist, and some green. Your life will never be the same.

As for Gargamel, I'm sure I'll have some interesting stuff upon my return. In the meantime, we have a trophy to win.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Trust......What Is It Really??

So I'm reading an interesting entry today that speaks to the difficulty that people struggle with trusting that those close to them won't betray them. Such a read takes me to a couple of specific places within my own life where I struggle to believe in those that I am close to. Kinda pathetic, but true. By the way, don't try to read into this any more than necessary. I actually had a WONDERFUL day.

When I think of the word trust, a few things come to mind. The educator in me wants to go to Webster's, which might identify it as the reliance on the integrity, strength, or surety of a person or thing. The preacher in me is compelled to speak to the definition from either a Greek or Hebraic standpoint, whereby trust is viewed as the complete reliance, confidence or certainty in someone or something. Pretty similar.

But the reality is that sometimes, we don't quite do well with simple or complex definitions. So it often behooves me to rely on the hood rat in me that defines trust with examples, as opposed to wordy definitions. The hood says that trust is when you do what you promised to do with, for, or to someone. After we graduated, we called that shit integrity. Trust is when you don't snitch on a muthafukka just to save your own ass, or to get ahead. We called that shit 'being faithful to the family' (immediate, extended, or just other niggas from your hood). Trust is when a nigga can keep his mouth shut, and you don't have to worry about your shit hittin the streets when you know you only told one bitch. Trust is when you can go to bed knowing that whoever is in your corner is supposed to be there. They won't steal your shit or your nigga (or your lady). They won't bad-mouth you when you're gone. They will conduct themselves like the adults they are supposed to be.

Finally, trust is simply having the ability to believe in the fact that the crew you roll with has your back, and knows how to exhibit all of the behaviors that communicate that. But all this shit is just my opinion, because apparently, I have a fucked up sense of what trust REALLY is.

What do ya'll think?

Just askin.

Monday, July 5, 2010

I Think I Like Him......Part 2

My friend Lawrence and I don't always agree on everything. Sometimes we approach difficult situations differently. Different strokes for different folks, right?? Well, I know this. That nigga hit the nail on the muthafukkin head when he introduced me to Stephen.

As I'm sitting next to him typing this entry, watching him sleep, I'm reminded of how much I really think I'm feelin this dude. I've spent the last few days with him, talking, traveling, visiting, dining, and just continuing to learn more about each other. Every time we're together, I learn something new. Not simply because of what I witnessed or something that happened.....but because I asked, and he answered. I'm getting to know Stephen. What he likes and dislikes. What excites him and what bothers him. What he likes to eat and what he can't stand. I know he likes comedies. As I look over at him sleeping peacefully, I chuckle at the idea of his big 6'5" ass laughing hysterically while we were watching the new movie "Grown Ups" during our time together. The shit was funny. But Stephen is a big ass, muscular muthafukka, with hard features. I love when he smiles and laughs. Most people would probably look at him and think that such a side in him doesn't exist.

We went to a friend's house to play spades the other night and whooped some ASS. On the ride back, I asked him a question (none of your fukkin bizness....bunch a nosey bitches!!). Stephen made it clear that he didn't intend to discuss such a topic, as he didn't want to get into that type of dialog with someone close. I understood. But I smiled inside, as the next twenty minutes of conversation made him comfortable enough to just go there anyway......completely on his own.

There are so many dimensions and angles to our friendship. I don't take him for granted. We talk and share intimate details about who we are. We laugh and expose some of the silly and embarrassing things about ourselves. We spend time together just....being. Doing nothing. Sometimes in total silence. And when all of that is done, we share........well, you know.

At the end of the day, I'm not sure what to call what we're doing. But I know that I'm glad to have him around. And I think he may feel the same way. I really think I like him. Ole big ass muthafukka.