It has always amazed me every morning no matter where I am to hear about or see people who wake up hours before they have to be at school or work, go to the gym, do yoga, watch a morning talk show, pick out a nice outfit with accessories, let their car warm up (even in summer), go to Starbucks, and still arrive at school or work early. My mornings consist of pressing snooze from about 6:00am to 9:49am, brushing my teeth and tongue, and sleepwalking to my destination. I have sometimes purposely gotten to work early to sleep in the lounge/break rooms. I want to be one of those people that wake up before sunrise whistling negro spirituals and drinking freshly squeezed mango juice that I squeezed with my bare hands in my backyard, that go to work on a Monday morning excited to tell everyone about a hemp quilt they knitted Friday night. Someone show me the way.
Usher gonna be at Summerfest too?! Usher?! His Confessions album was the soundtrack of my life since I was 16. I remember breaking up with a girl in high school by printing off the “Burn” lyrics and giving it to her in an envolope. So corny. The moral of the story is that I’ll be attending this concert as well. And I’m already knowing it’s gonna be packed with mamacitaronis so you already know I’ll be in there, chest all swole, with baby oil on it, with a v-neck so deep you can see my whole body.
Never thought I’d settle down, but me and the mom of one of my students at work gotta love thing going on. Last week I became bffs with her daughter and yesterday she told me her daughter said “Tavaris is my favorite mentor. He’s a sweeter than the other mentors.” Then right before she left the mom waived at me and said in her cute South American accent and skin tight workout attire, “Bye Meester T.” My knees almost buckled like a drunk whore with heels on outside the club at 2:37am, but I kept it smooth and waived back with the LL Cool J face on with my eyes slightly squinted like a light skinned dude taking a selfie. When I got home I showered and sang Tyrese’s “Sweet Lady,” and by the way, I’m sounding and looking more and more like that guy. Now I’m in my room watching YouTube tutorials on how to be a stepdad with Selena playing in the background. Love is in the air. I’ll fax all my friends and family with where to send engagement, house warming, car warming, wedding, and reception gifts.
Confession: For the first 67% of my life I had no idea how to dance. I would study episodes of 106 & Park every single day, and attempt to emulate various Lil Bow Wow dance moves and even some from Diddy or “Puff Daddy” if you will. One warm spring day in 7th grade we had a school dance, which was scheduled for the last 3 class periods of the day. These dances were always my worst nightmare, but this time was much different. I was on the dance floor with pure terror and/or paranoia on my face. Just frantically scanning the room, nodding my head extremely off beat. Suddenly an 8th grade Latina grabs my hand and starts dancing with me. I had no clue what to do. My whole body locked up like black people’s apartment doors. This was a time when you actually had to perform dance moves with a girl, unlike nowadays where you’re just trying to thrust your dingaling on whatever female crevice is available (Dat ass, neck, elbow, etc.) So it’s about 46 seconds into our one-on-one dance and she stops me and says with the smile of an angel “You don’t know how to dance do you?” Before I could do a reverse pivot and sprint in the other direction she says “It’s ok, I’ll show you.” She grabs both my hands and it’s like Save The Last Dance all over again, except I’m the off beat white girl with rain boots on. We danced for the rest of the dance and I made so many improvements. We hugged goodbye at the end of the school day and got on our respective school buses. I then had to defend my WWF School Bus Title against 2 other kids in a triple threat match. I won with a Stone Cold Stunner and followed it with a People’s Elbow then got written up. That was completely unrelated to the rest of the story, but a fun fact indeed. Although I can’t remember that girl’s name I love her for her kindness and patience to this day. I’m nice on the dance floor now baby.
I cannot complain. I cannot.
"I don’t smoke menthols. I don’t use any product marketed specifically to black people, because that’s where the poison is," Chappelle said. "I smoke, like, Virginia Slims. I look at the box and think, ‘Nobody is going to hurt that white woman. Give me some of those.’"
I appreciate the thought behind my bank offering fraud prevention on my account, but enough is enough. They closed my card yesterday without notifying me, and I had to face the embarrassment of having my card declined trying to buy two 20 oz. Sprites. Clerk talking bout “I tried it 3 times. I even wiped it on my pants.” What’s worse is the fraud prevention people text me last week after I bought deodorant at Walgreen’s like “TEXT ‘1’ IF THIS $3 PURCHASE A BLOCK FROM WHERE YOU LIVE IS FRAUD.” Who steals a card and goes to ball out at Walgreen’s to buy $3 deodorant? Cancel my shit if someone was trying to buy Vagisil in Oregon or something. I need a drink.
A complete stranger in the gym tried to clown my workout gloves under his breath. Little did he know I was listening to Taylor Swift at a low volume which allowed me to hear a snippet of the comment. I paused my iPod and asked what he said. He asked “Why you wearing gloves?” I responded “Your girl told me she like smooth hands.” Then I walked away to do abs. Taylor brings out the G in me.