Life, love, hip hop, humor AND instructions on how to cook a bangin'-ass meal... all in one place. I put the words here, make what you want of them.

Monday, August 22, 2011

"Hollywood"

Explanation of the title will come at the end...

Do you know a compulsive liar?

I mean, just plain pathological with it… Everything that is done is played up to be something just a bit more.

He has one chick tell him that she likes his car, it becomes “I drive that car because it gets me ass regularly.”
He becomes a slave nerd to any one trend of the moment, and in conversation he is a lifelong connoisseur (and yes, I spelled that right) and tastemaker on it.

PATHOLOGICAL, I swear!
The one thing a pathological liar has going for them is that they are at best too oblivious or at worst too stupid to be concerned that the people he is telling the lies to were THERE when what he is lying about took place and know the truth.

A lot like Rick Ross (whatup, Joe!)

Which brings me to a situation from this past weekend…
Some friends went to see Tariq Nasheed speak in Charlotte. To those who don’t know who he is, I suggest you click his name and acquaint yourselves with what he is about and come back to finish this.
Anyway, at the end of his seminars, he takes questions and ONE person in the group decided that it would be a good idea to play himself up to someone who has no reason to be impressed with his shit, in front of a group of people with equal entitlement to not giving a fuck.
Despite the fact that the people who came with him knew full better, he goes in to question what to do with “all the women who always hit on me at work,” of course coming after a stammering setup involving items that women really don’t find attractive, I promise you. The three people he was with knew better, those in the audience, ALL of whom loosed pained groans at the question knew better, but I am willing to bet that as he stuttered through his ill-planned-despite-10-minutes-in-line question sounded to HIM like he was saying…

“I have a question!
‘Riq, my problem is twofold…
I happen to be the flyest cat in my county, let alone my call center job. I happen to be heavily into Japanese culture – you know, Anime, Drifting and all – and will eventually move there one day. Anyway, being that women find all things Japanese sexy as it gets and as fly as I am, the baddest bish in the building at my call center job quickly got at me. As usual with EVERY woman to look at me, the deal was sealed quickly.
Well, you know how bishes do when you sling that good dick, she goes back to work on her day off and sends a floorwide email to all the women in the building. Well, when I get back to work in my Japanese drifting car, all the women are calling me the light-skinnded Lex Steele. So there you have it.
My questions are…

1. How do I reel in some of this dick to keep these broads from getting so sprung off me?

2. and...
What can I do to beat some of these bishes off, I mean ain’t but 24 hours in the day and I can’t fit three 4-hour sessions with these hoes, make sure my drifting is practiced and still work and get the necessary sleep I need.

Thanks in advance”

A good friend of mine calls this intersection, at the moment where someone is so committed to a lie that they believe and fight for it as the “my bullshit is poetic” moment.
Usually people who are adept at holding character like that make great professional wrestlers, never breaking character even in public.

The “Hollywood” reference of the title is to the people who get out to the land of fake titties and decide to embellish their resumes in order to gain favor in the light of fake people. When such an approach is taken when there is usually nothing to gain – even if there is A LOT to lose – they’re described as ‘talking Hollywood’.
In the real world, though, these people are generally hard to be around.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Phlip's positive hip-hop reinforcement

I’ve been told I am a “hater,” and that I am incapable of conducting a discussion of hip hop music without falling off into some profanity-laced diatribe filled with nothing particularly constructive.
Apart from genuinely not knowing what a “hater” actually is, as employed, I cannot disagree with this assessment of my own presented opinions of the current state of hip hop. What I am going to do today is offer all the positive reinforcement as it relates to the current state of hip hop, and I will not do so with the “aching pussy” approach of “underground ‘hip-hop’ vs. mainstream ‘rap’,” as that is a divisive tactic employed by a generally annoying minority fringe group of hip hop "fans" that I just refuse to employ.

In discussions with some good friends this week, it was noted that until about 2003-2004ish – perhaps 05 at the latest, I could be counted on to buy 30-50 newly released CDs in a year, 80-85% of which of the hip hop genre. I was in a bit of a renaissance at the time where I had disposable income, that much decent music was coming out and I was serious about my physical media collection.
A perfect storm, if you will…

Enough about my favorite time of hip hop – a very admitted 1996-2003 are it for me – I said that we were going to speak up on 2011.
Unlike 2004-06, I now own a home, have two cars and a family occupying that home and those cars. Responsibilities are different, but I COULD still afford $10-20 a paycheck for a CD or two if I was so inclined to want to do so. It’d be a recommission of my alcohol budget, honestly.
As I type this, we are 230 days into the year. I have purchased 3 albums. THREE!

DJ Quik – The Book of David
Killer Mike – PL3DGE
Eminem and Royce Da 5’9” – Hell: the Sequel

… and that is IT. Not for lack of applied interest, but nothing new has interested me following my test drives. Of those, only DJ Quik’s was purchased without a “test drive” and my plans include a purchase of Royce’s new album this weekend.

I am not pleased…

Easy, Phlip, you promised that there would be no profanity and no “hatin’” in this post!

Okay, back to the initially stated task at hand. I am going to refrain from speaking negatively on hip hop in general for the remainder of this post.
Ready?























































See? How hard was that?
There are some things that I am not even sure I am looking forward to, I will wait and be surprised by them when the princess and I stroll the mall and I stop in FYE to decide who has earned my $10 or less on single-disc CD albums.

Next time I talk hip hop, I might not be so nice about it.

Monday, August 15, 2011

What a difference a month makes

Officially, summer started on June 21st, and as I look back over my summer to this point, I would have to rethink what might have been some VERY safe bets at that time…

  • If you’d told me that there would be a third person in my house with my last name, I would have laughed at you and taken that bet.
  • If you’d suggested to me that by August 15th, that someone would have pissed, vomited, drooled, or inadvertently gotten baby shit on me and I didn’t beat them viciously; then I might beat YOU viciously.
  • If you’d suggested that I would actually ACT on one of the cars I randomly looked at on Craigslist all the time, I would have asked you where the money was coming from. Furthermore, only a small number of those reading this could have ever guessed what it MIGHT have been.
  • What you might have bet on is that, as a known road-rager, I am nigh impossible to take out of a mood with anything other than time. If I would have told YOU that half a grin from that short person named in #1 is usually enough to make me forget what I was talking about, you’d look at me like an alien.


You both know the story about how we came to this position, if not, read it here.
Needless to say, today marks the close of the second fastest month of my life, second only to the one before it, in which the scramble to be in this took place. One month ago today, we brought in my new favorite thing/person on the planet. Anyone/thing else should be honored to have been knocked down a rung. Those allowed to be connected to me on FaceBook have seen the pictures as they unfold, shot in and around the house and city by myself, her mother, my mother/sisters and one photographer.
They say “time flies when you’re having fun,” and I will not say that the ride has not been a blast (except for the shitty diaper thing), but that person apparently never experienced the “… when every move you make or don’t make can be critical” that comes with the care for an infant.

Ava is well, she does just fine on the day-to-day and generally can melt anyone with a smile.

… and she smells like a baby.

… and she is absolutely my child:
  • amused by her own gas
  • sleeps through EVERYTHING (catastrophic thunderstorms, dogs barking, me talking loud, television noise, etc…)
  • (I know one might not be so inclined to think this about an infant, but…) I swear this child is as stubborn and spiteful as I am.
  • Loves the sound of music – Katie calms her for baths/changing by singing or playing music.

I am coming to grips with the situation being that people will not ask about me before asking about her, if they ever ask about me at all. Being a middle child prepared me for that. I am guessing that one day I will learn to NOT say “get your filthy fucking hands away from my child or I will kill you and everything in your ZIP code,” even if I WILL continue to think it every time I hear the inevitable “awww, it’s a BAY-BEE!!!” tardgasm that everyone seems to have whenever there is anyone younger than two years enters their line of sight.
I have been practicing as best I can the art of no-selling people asking me EVERY day “got any new pictures?” as if it isn’t the same damned child from the previous day. I will not say it isn’t difficult, I am beginning to question the sanity of an individual who would want to see the same child in redundant situations time and time and time again. I manage to back out of it by imagining the person is/will be a “crazy cat lady,” and removing myself from the situation with something to make them uncomfortable.

Here we are, one month into the craziest trip of our lives, with 215 months remaining between now and 18 (not that I am counting, or anything).
I am always open to donations for alcohol and a pistol at any time.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Sacrifices, I'm willing... are you?

To pass that rare collection of spare minutes I have at work, I can usually be found patrolling the news on MSN/MSNBC, and one that I happened upon was about some uncontacted tribes in the Western Amazon that are beginning to go missing for various reasons…

  • Peruvian drug lords killing them in the drug trade.
  • Fishing/hunting enterprise raping their resources.
  • Contact with modernized (vaccinated) human beings, who are ALL probably silently carrying disease that they're immune to, but to which these people have no immunity.

And in response to that last one, I jokingly hit a friend of mine with a message “Lets go to South America and chill with one of those uncontacted tribes, so they can all die of a disease we probably happen to carry, but have immunity to,” to which he accurately responded “This is why going to the past will not work ever. It will kill off everyone and create a paradox.”

Cue my “lightbulb” moment.
I could go back in time, a generally healthy cat through the way of alcoholism and modern medicine normalizing the most of my bodily cells. I concede that there are things I have been vaccinated for in my lifetime, that are probably still there, but just dormant due to a strong immune system. This is why they tell you to keep sickly people away from babies.

Holy tangents, Batman… where was I?

I was going back in time. I would set my time machine to land me on the VERY DAY that the first slave driver set into motion among the greatest (as in bad, not good) atrocities known to current humanity. I show up carrying some 21st-century shit that they have no immunity to or medical planning for, I go into one of my random coughing fits, shake some hands and hop back in the old time machine.
Yes, the paradox this would cause would likely render me nonexistent before returning to 2011, but I am big enough a man to sacrifice myself to stave off the worst of the world’s human atrocities.
[Phlip note - with that in mind, I probably procreate before getting back on the WayBack Machine, so as to preserve at least that much of my bloodline]

As I sit and think on this, there are others that might not have taken place either, as a result.

  • Colonization would not have had the free forced labor, and the stronghold that came with the discovery theft of native land might not have been so effective.
  • Slave trade to and through the West Indies as a means of getting around US law wouldn’t have been so effective, thus leaving those SAME natives in control in Haiti in particular, thus staving off what became the period of French control that still damns the country.
  • No such thing as “immigration problems” when the indigenous group remains in control.
  • And most importantly… black people totally lose the use of the “race card,” which kills roughly 96.432651% of black peoples’ ammunition in debates involving race.

More than just a blogger, I am a problem solver.

I should get a Nobel for even HAVING these kind of thoughts.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Would you do it?

Sometimes the strangest of conversations come from the most unexpected of places…
Last Saturday or Sunday, I was home with The Katie and The Ava, at the computer and going through my RSS feeds for the Tumblr blogs that I follow.

The question was presented to one of the people that I follow


“would you smoke crack ONE time for $250,000”

The guy offered an answer that I imagined as I read it would have been spoken with a chorus of “uuhhhhh, ummm…” and so-forth, but was basically encapsulated in the very politically-correct “I seen what that shit does to people and families, so no I wouldn’t.”

Respectable enough answer, I will grant that, but I couldn’t say all the way that I trusted it. My curiosity, however, was ALL THE WAY piqued as it related to the subject.
So “up” were my ears on this one, that I waited 2-3 days and posted it on FaceBook, Twitter and on the forum to see what those who know me and know of me thought on the subject.

To say the least, I found the answers interesting, and at times totally full of shit. The “full of shit” ones were mostly from the forum, but a web forum by design creates those kinds of things at time. That in mind, an argument ensued there over morales and who was better than whom, but that was neither here nor there.

I will excerpt some of the responses I got, but I WILL NOT name these people unless they out themselves in the comments under this post. I am doing this because, frankly, people are admitting that they would do some narcotic in exchange for some fat cash.

Responses now…

· Wooooow, that's actually a tough question. Honestly, though, I wouldn't. I've never done drugs in my life and I would NEVER do something as hardcore as crack, haha.

· nope shits dirty would never touch it for any amount of money

· As much as money may be tight and a quarter of a million sounds good I could not get myself or convince myself to. I have never smoked or done drugs in any form or shape so I couldnt even just this once.

· I think it highly depends on ones situation.

Part of me thinks "well, it would pay for a house and then some", but the thought of having bought said house by smoking crack is...well, not good.

If you'd smoke crack for money, what else would one do? Give someone a blowjob? Take it in the ass? Where does it stop.

So, no. I wouldn't. Would much rather work hard and earn things the right way instead of taking the easy way out.

· I would not put my life on the line for it. Now that's for me, not someone else. I know the possible consequences of that action. Would just not want to go there.

· HELL NAW!!!! For me to do that would require the combined payment equivalent of the GDP for the US, Canada, Japan, and Europe!!

· I would never do that!

· FUCK NO!! where exactly do u think that 250k is gonna go after u have slobbed that glass knob???

· Hells yes! Even after taxes, that would get me a house and pay off all my debt!

· Dr. Phil....ummm...I have $40k in student loans, wanna new whip, need a new wardrobe, my remi sew-in Beyonce weaves are $400 a pop...I don't drink or smoke weed, never even had a cigarette but er um...run me that pipe son!! I will check into rehab tomorrow.
#pssssh

· Negative. My body is already being destroyed by process food, I don't need some synthetic brain killer as well. Now a pound of your Swedish Cheba on the other hand...

· I am adamantly opposed to uppers, esp such a ghetto chemical laden as crack...
I smoke alot of MJ (card carrying stoner here) and have never tried anything I wasn't willing to get addicted to..


HOWEVER...id smoke the shit out of a rock for 250K

· As far as drugs go, I've only smoked weed, not often....... maybe 10-15 times in my life, just at parties etc.

I would smoke crack for 250k though, without question. I would probably smoke it for anything over 20k if it's just for the one time. Crack is bad but lots of successful people have and do smoke crack.


It's not like one of those commercials on TV where you smoke it once then instantly turn into a prostitute living on the streets.


A lot of you guys are saying no, but I find it hard to believe that if someone handed you 250K in a briefcase and a pipe that you wouldn't go with it.

· If I knew it was clean, you can bet your ass I'd ride the rock for a quarter million. THat buys me a nice piece of property, and builds me a nice house and garage.

Working hard isn't the issue; I do everyday. But (as said above) I've done a ton of dumb shit in my time. Addiction is all in the mind; simple people often fall trap to things, those who know better do not - this doesn't just apply to drugs, but to all vices in life.



And to blow a guy for a million...lemme smoke the crack above for a 1/4 mil, and I'd probably go for it. I'd really need to be inebreated. Call me gay, whatever but a million bucks is a million bucks.

· I saw a crack head clean out his mom's house in 30 minutes stove frig , washer, dryer everything by his self me and the guys wacthing him doing it was thinking they were moving until 15 mintues later him mom rolled up from and was like well I guess the food going to go back and just broke down. I couldnt smoke nothing that could make me do that to my own family.... everyone always wonders why I just drink cause I seen to much but its your body I wouldnt for a $1,000,000 not in my body.

· I absolutely would
smoke crack for $250K. I would inject it directly into my chest for that much
Money.

· For $250,000, I'd do just about anything you wanted me to do with crack.

· My will says no, but my poverty says yes. With a bullhorn.

As one can see, the conversation was all over the place and largely split as to who would or would not smoke that rock in exchange for a quarter mil.

Outside of the conversations, one person copped to what crack specifically had done to his family and another cited his own addiction treatment – which required medical attention – as a reason to simply not trust himself.

Me? Yeah, I’ve seen first hand what it can do to a family, and to the weak-willed… Luckily, however, I know myself and trust myself.
Contrary to what was depicted on an episode of American Dad or that lying-ass Nancy Reagan and her deceased Husband would have had you believe, smoking crack one time will NOT leave you begging middle-schoolers to allow you to provide them a blowjay in order to cop a fix. What you do with the quarter mil after you’ve come down from that high is between you and your God, as you understand him.

With all that said, you damned right I would smoke crack ONE time for $250k…
I am further of the opinion that 95% of the people who found Jesus in the discussion of the topic when it was hypothetical would sing a totally different song if there was a pipe and a rock between them and a quarter mil cash on the table opposite them.