Are You F*ckin For Real?!

"I feel like I'm taking crazy pills!!" As everyone around continues to try to make me believe that Asher Roth, Kid Cudi, Charles Hamilton, and Solja Boy are gonna take us into the next generation I feel like I am shouting into a void as more and more mindless gnomes maintain that these are the revolutionaries of the "New-Hop" Era. I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of this entrance into the next dimension. It didn't occur to me that I can walk around my house parading around like a buffoon and that was the next level of thinking. I can't believe this nigga is supposed to be the Savior of Hip Hop. We've given birth to an entire generation of Porch monkeys that spend so much time "Gettin Silly" that they forget to actually say something. I look at BET(and that's rare) and it looks like we have an influx of cartoon characters masquerading as superstars and I, for one, refuse to be sucked in by these imbeciles and their coonery. There is too much out there that can be getting the spotlight, i.e. the real rap of Common Sense, the casual swagger of Lupe Fiasco, the rawness of Shwayze, the uniqueness of Andre 3000, or the complexity of T.I. PaperTrail, without the withdrawal from reality of Lil Wayne. I know people are tryin to be different people. And there is nothing wrong with that. But somebody's gotta be able to differentiate between the brilliant and the foolish. The Great and the Stupid. Here's my line in the sand. I'm not hating, I'm just sayin.

Winding Word

So I have this cutty buddy and our arrangement is pretty lucrative, to say the least. No strings. No complications and great sex in every variation. But sometimes we find ourselves in interesting margins that blur the line between friends with benefits, platonic courting, and legitimate intimacy. The result is me getting caught up with emotions that made me want to pursue a more extended relationship but that wasn't what they were looking for. Hurt, I cut everything off so that I could protect myself. I didn't like the feelings of confusion and it was for the best. However more recently my horniness got the best of me and I found my "friend" in my bed again. Now we're going out on dates and such, back and forth with who pays. Interestingly enough, they invited me to the concert of one of my favorite singers. Naturally, I was excited at the prospect of spending quality time with them and a side of good music. Randomly, to up the ante on the weekend, they suggested we go up a day earlier to DC to hang out with some of their friends and then the next morning make the trek to Richmond for the concert. Turns out, this whole weekend was supposed to be a freak fest for me and my wonderful friend. Mmph.I had no idea. And then we spent half this weekend having sex and the other half of it ignoring each other; or rather my friend ignored me. I will admit, I'm a bit put off because if this was supposed to be a freak fest weekend why did you keep pishing me away when I'm in sex mode? And if it was supposed to be an intimate weekend why do you keep missing the sweet simplicity in moments like us watching tv together? I mean, honestly you're so trifling if ever I tried to tell you how you'd find a way to make it my fault. I'm pissed. And everytime I think we have fixed this arrangement, you complicate things. Not that you're a bad person, but I'm just sayin.

Keeping it 100

This is me and my girl Eri, doin our normal thing of arguing about shit that's relevant to us, i.e., rap music today. It's pretty funny. We laughed at it. Anyway, check it out. Let me know whatchu think.

Miseducation of Dr. Jeff

Sooooooooo, my teacher came in looking a mess today in class. And coming off the steam of Senior Ball and lots of people looking extremely "put-together," shall we say, it's jarring to see someone look like they just rolled out of bed, took half the rollers out their head, and throw the rest of their hair into a scraggly ponytail. Wtf? Why would an educated, black, 30-something woman walk around like that? In this modern day, with an economic recession and a decreasing population of eligible, African American bachelors, why wouldn't you try your best to attract as many prospects as possible by fixing your damn hair?!!! Ugh. And you wonder why you can't find a man. I'm gone get you ass a flat iron as Graduation Gift, from me to you. I ain't hating Dr. Jeffrey. I'm just sayin.