OBSERVATIONS OF MADRID II

Hear is the second part of my Madrid observations. I now do not feel so bad for bashing the people of this city when after many conversations with other English teachers and foreigners in general, many people seconded everything you will read.

1.) Ok, I completely understand how if you bring a movie from another country that is not in your countries language that you have to translate the title of said film. Here in Spain, they are HORRIBLE with how they translate movie titles. Even my Spanish students admit there must be an old drunk man that watches the films then decides what he is going to call them in English. For example, you remember that film White Chicks with the Waynon brothers? The film was forgettable I’m sure, but here in Madrid, the title of that film was called…Dos Rubias con Pelo en Pecho. The literal translation is…Two Blonds with Hair on their Chests. Swear to God the movie was called that. If you don’t think that one is strange how about this one; I was walking through a grocery store and they were selling old DVDs really cheap. You all remember that film with Chris Rock from waaaaaaaay back on the day called CB4? It was like a spoof on Boyz in the Hood. You will never guess what they called it here. I actually found it very offensive, but I live in Madrid and expect it from these people so I had to laugh also. Esos Negros están en lo Otra Vez, loosely translated that means, “Those negros are at it again.” Oh yes, the box really said that. I almost bought it to have proof of the level of ignorance and insensitivity here. There are soooo many more movie titles I could name. I am actually going to send a document soon of the films in English with the Spanish translations next to them so you can see what I mean.

2.) I love women. I think most of you know that. I really do. I pride myself on finding beauty in women that most men overlook. In saying that, there are some things I just can’t get over which I have noticed here in Madrid. Women have moles in the most fucked up places! Now, moles and birthmarks can be sexy. If they are located on the corner of the mouth, on the side of the nose, you know places like that. Here in Madrid?! I have seen women with moles on the very tip of their nose. I don’t mean small cute moles, not even medium size character giving ones. I am talking about huge, nasty, witch looking moles just daggling off the end of noses. I have seen a huge, bumpy mole on the tip of earlobes looking like their ear is sweatin’ skin. Oh, oh, I saw one woman with a big ass wart right in the middle of her forehead. But the worst one, I mean the one that almost made me gag was the woman with a mole on her bottom lip, smack damn in the center on the edge. She looked like one of those fishes at the bottom of the see that uses fake bait to lure fish close enough so they can kill them! I couldn’t help but stare at her lip. And she was talking real fast so it was jigglin’!! It was all hypnotizing me and everything. The only country I have ever seen anything like that in my life.

3.) I understand Spain was under a dictator for a lot of years. So they could use that excuse to explain why they are so behind culturally. One thing however, dictator or no that I do not get is men’s underwear here. My flat mate last year was Spanish and I do go to the gym so I see the types of underwear Spanish men are wearing. They aren’t just wearing tighty whiteys, but multi-colored tighty whiteys. They look like they are wearing Underoos for Adults. Just in case you don’t remember what Underoos are…they were a brand of underwear waaaaaaaay back in the day for little boys. They would put the colors and emblems of Super Heroes or Movie characters on them. Now. When you get to be 30, you should not want to be wearing draws that make you look like Yoda! Or, they have these weird Tim Leary psychedelic colors going on. I’m having an acid trip just trying to get dressed in the locker room.

4.) Right. So I like to cook and I like to read. Two things that are not uncommon or unheard of in the world right? Well in Madrid, I guess no one sent them the memo that black men can cook and do read. When I go grocery shopping, I have to take the metro to the closest grocery store. Coming back I am loaded down with bags heading to my apartment on the metro. Spanish people will actually look at my bags in amazement. I mean there will be shock and awe on their face that I have food in my bags and bought it at a grocery store. I even heard this conversation once while returning with my food between a couple (in Spanish of course) “It looks like food in the bags.” “It is! I see chicken and juice and pasta sauce!” “Well ain’t that a bitch. I didn’t know they shopped in grocery stores!” Oh yes, black people have only recently learned about grocery stores and have stopped hunting for wild meat in the parks and forests of Madrid. I swear every person on the metro stares at my groceries like I am transporting sacks of dollars instead of plain old food. In saying that though, the Africans DID the same thing when I first started shopping at that particular grocery store. In their case though, I think it was more of…”That nigga has food in those bags!” “Did you know they let Negroes in that grocery store!?” “Hell, if he can do it, so can we!” Now, I always see hella black people in that grocery store now. They pass me with their carts and baskets all grinning like “You ain’t the only one now!” Let me pull out a book on the metro. People have this funny look like they don’t believe I can actually read, but have the book just to pretend. Oh, and if I really want to cause a stir I take out my journal and start writing…in ENGLISH. They damn near have a fit on the metro.

5.) A very interesting thing about people from Madrid is that they realize their behavior is a bit shocking and out of sync with the rest of Europe. Well, some things of their behavior they admit to, others they have no clue and consider it normal but that is a study for a trained Psychologist. However, go to the South of Spain and the people are much nicer and considerate. Ask people from Madrid to comment on why that is so and they give the excuse…err, I mean reason that they are from the North of Spain and that since it is colder it makes them colder and more difficult to open up to new people. What kind of bullshit excuse is that!? Because you are from the North of Spain that is the reason why you are all assholes?! It is Spain! It’s not like its Sweden where if you are in the North of Sweden you are in the Artic Circle. North of Spain is like North Florida or North Jamaica. It’s still a place that is hella warmer than 90% of Europe. And, what makes it so bad is that I went to Germany and it was cold…but the people were still nicer than the people from Madrid! So what is their excuse now?!

6.) The thing that I understand the least, but pisses me off the most about Madrid. And most likely it is this way in all of Spain, but my experience is limited to only here in Madrid. Ok, every nation has a segment of their television programming that is unfiltered, pure, undiluted crap. What I have observed about Spanish television is how they insist on making people who star in crap TV famous. INSIST on it. Big Brother, which is called Gran Hermano here, is a way of life in Madrid. So, they will have the episode on, then the next night, they will have a show dedicated to speaking about every single little thing that happened in the previous episode. As I said before, they can not just have one or two people hosting the show. They will have a table with 5 people sitting around the table yelling and arguing over why they think so and so left their dirty draws in the bathroom, or why so and so didn’t put their cup in the sink. Behind those 5 people will be the family of the contestants still on the show, uncles, cousins, grandparents, random step-relatives. So in all, there are at least 30 people up on this stage all acting like they are discussing the fate of the world. Then, once the show is over, the contestants are still famous! We have American Idol and Real World, etc, etc. Once those shows go off the air the people are famous for a week at most unless they get arrested or die. Here in Madrid they are famous until they die! People who are on shows from 3 and 4 years ago are always on TV! Not just discussing Gran Hermano, but doing cooking shows, on late night TV….I mean, maybe I could understand if it was the young and attractive ex-participants who could do some commercial work, but EVERYONE from the show. That old, fat man that kept farting and picking his nose in 1999? He still is making the rounds on TV. Then, THEN, THEN, the other networks which are competitors will have their own shows about Gran Hermano!?! Are you serious!? You have a show about a program on another station and talk about that said program for an hour twice a week!? Madness I tell ya. They can’t name any doctors or scientists here in Madrid, but ask them who was the 6th person voted off in the 2002 version of Big Brother and they could tell you why and give you a synopsis as to their dismissal.

7.) I will say I do like how Spanish men are more affectionate with their wives/girlfriends in public here. They aren’t afraid to show how much they care for their females. The one thing I have noticed, that I don’t mind, but I wonder if the women like it is this…It is ok to touch and caress your girlfriend’s ass in public. Spanish men take it to a whole different level though! They rear their arms back to get some momentum and slap, and then lock on to their girlfriend’s asses like their hand is a Pit-bull on a raw piece of steak. I am always like “Daaaaaaaaamn!” Then they start squeezing and kneading it like they are about to make bread dough with it. I love ass more than the next man, so take care of it! You don’t always have to be gentle, but for Pete’s sake don’t draw blood. I figure that is why Spanish women have nice butts. All that slapping and pinching has swollen up their backsides and filled out their jeans. The men don’t even try and do it on the sly either, middle of the street, in department stores on the metro, whenever and wherever. Makes me wonder…”Hhhmm…what the hell do they do when they are alone in private?” The men probably have the Jaws of Life chasing after their females trying to grab their asses with it.

8.) Ignorance is ignorance. People in other countries like to label Americans as ignorant, and a lot are I admit. However, the average person in most countries is ignorant to the world outside of their city, country etc. The Madrileños? They have taken that shit to another level. First of all it’s a proven fact that the capitals and major cities of countries have the best and the brightest living there. It’s the natural migration to the big city in search of jobs and opportunities. In Madrid, it’s both the best and the brightest decided to stay in their villages, or sadly, this may be all the country has to offer… Let me explain. Ok, You are in England and you say you are from..I don’t know Colombia. The person may make some assumptions that everyone from there is a drug smuggler or every visitor gets kidnapped. However, once that Colombian explains to them that it actually isn’t that bad, etc, etc. I would bet the English person takes a step back because he is speaking to an ACTUAL Colombian. There misconceptions are being corrected by a person who would know the truth. Madrileños? Nope, it doesn’t work like that. “American food is hamburgers and Coca Cola.” “Oh, so you have visited the United States?” “No, but I know American food.” “Oh, so you know about Cajun food? Tex Mex? Soul Food? Philly Cheese Steaks? Chicago Deep Dish Pizza? And all the other combos of food we have?” This sentence will be followed by a puzzled look on their face…”Dip Deesh Pizza? Qué es eso? (What is that?)” “Exactly, you don’t know American food obviously.” At this point a normal person would either just walk away, or ask about the different types of food, SOMETHING. A Madrileño? They will tell you nooooo, hamburgers and coca cola is American Food. What?! MF you are goin’ to tell ME an American what we eat in MY country?? Spanish people travel less than Americans! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to class on a Monday and asked my students, “So what did you do this weekend?” And had an entire room of people for 9 months say, “Went back to my village.” How can you know what the hell people in another country eat when every damn weekend you go back to the same village where EVERYONE in your family still lives? I don’t see people there having International Food Night and every time you have American food it’s been Hamburgers and Coca Cola. Sometimes I’ll slip up and use slang in classes. When they can’t find it in a dictionary I’ll joke that I was speaking in Ebonics. It’s a joke, but it will start a conversation how black in the United States speak differently than white people in the United States. They don’t believe me!!! How in the fu@* can you not believe me?! In your own country not everyone speaks “Spanish” and you don’t believe in the United States, a country 10 times bigger than yours that a segment of the population speaks differently than another segment?? Damn they get me fired up!

Sad thing is, I think I may have to do a third set of Observations….and it won’t be positive! Stay tuned.

OBSERVATIONS OF MADRID

Ok, these observations had to be put off a long while. I wanted to make sure this was observations and not a rant against the city. So, with that, these are true observations that I have spent two years observing and would swear to in a court of law with my hand upon a bible.

1.) My first observation of Madrid is the subtle beauty of the city. People outside of the country always hear about Barcelona, which sits directly on the Mediterranean Sea and known for its architecture. Then there is Seville which has the fusion of Christianity and Islam. Madrid however tends to grow on people. Seeing the city at night all lit up, you can’t help but fall in love with the place street by street a little at a time. There, I promised myself I would say something nice before I get to the nitty gritty about Madrid. Now to the PEOPLE of Madrid.

2.) People from Madrid are called Madrileños. Well, Madrileños are RUDE. I am not some ignorant American who has never traveled making this statement. I know how large American’s zone of personal space has to be and how sickeningly politically correct we are. I know what I am talking about. People from Madrid are RUDE, in all capital letters RUDE. They are so rude that if my mother was not going to read this observation I would call them something else… Anyway, I have decided to narrow their rudeness down to just the Metro. I use the metro daily getting to and from my classes so it is the environment I have observed the most rudeness.

2a.) Ok, most large cities have metros. For people who live in Boston, NYC, London and Paris you know about the rules of riding a subway. When the metro stops and you are waiting to get on, you move to either the right (or left in London) and let everyone exit before you attempt to enter. Well, someone forgot to tell the Madrileños. People here who are waiting to get on the metro all bunch up around the door of the metro…when it stops and the doors open it’s like the metro car becomes Macy’s having an 80% off of everything sale. The poor people trying to get off get bum rushed and flung back into the car if they aren’t paying attention. My first time heading into work, I thought someone famous was in the metro with me from all the people waiting and jostling trying to be first to the door. Then I had a second thought…LYNCH MOB!! So I stepped back just in case. Brotha can’t be too careful these days. Of course with the rush of people flowing in, I couldn’t get out and missed my stop. The people waiting to get out, once the doors open, they act like its Saigon in 1975 and they have to catch the last helicopter before the communists take over the city. I have never seen people exit a metro so fast in my life. The reason for all the chaos you ask? Just plain old rudeness. All the people pushing to get on the metro are fighting for seats. For seats! They are almost killing people to be able to sit down. I have seen grown men my age knock women over carrying small children to get to a seat, old women giving elbows to ribcages for a spot and two old men almost come to blows with two young women all over seats. And when a person who really needs the seat gets on the metro? EVERYONE acts like they reading a book, newspaper or asleep so they won’t be expected to get up. Damnedest thing I have ever seen in my life. I once saw a pregnant woman with her arm in a sling not get a seat on the metro. Madness I tell you. Oh, and let’s not forget about the people who are rushing to get off the metro. You think they are in a fit to get off so they won’t get stuck on the metro right? WRONG. I thought that was the case until I saw them still running once they were clear of the crowd. They run to the elevator. Now, running for the elevator is not that big of a deal. I personally don’t understand why they run for the elevator, and if they miss it, WAIT for it to go all the way up, and then come all the way down. Every metro station has escalators. I understand not being able to walk up stairs, but escalators do it for you! I never take the elevator and I never just ride the escalators, I walk them. I always make it to the top before the people who take the elevator. One day I decided to just ride the escalators to see how much faster the elevator was….I still beat the people to the surface! They fight to get on an elevator, squish and shove to be crammed in a small box, and it’s slower than just STANDING on the escalator to the top. I don’t get it…. And my last observation on Metro rudeness is…If all the seats are taken on the metro, those left standing all cluster and crowd around the door. Even if the morning and evening rush hours are over, people stand RIGHT in front of the door. I mean it is hot and the windows are fogged up, but people will not move down the length of the car to thin things out. I just don’t understand. It’s like they are a pack of llamas and there is safety in numbers.

3.) My last bit of rudeness, but this just may be a cultural thing. People here in Madrid have no problem passing gas in public. They don’t do it loudly, but we all know the silent ones are the deadliest. For some ungodly reason, they choose to fart on metros or trains that are FULL of people. Now, the main staple of Madrileños diet is ham, eggs, potatoes and chorizo (a type of sausage). Maaaan, talk about STANK! The first time I was on a crowded train and someone farted I thought someone had literally shat himself. I automatically had the “Goddamn!!” face. You know the one where your lips get all fat and try and touch your nose and your eyebrows get all scrunched down in the middle…Work with me here people! I can’t draw a picture for you, but black people know what I am talking about. Any who, I had that face. It smelled so bad it gave me a headache and made me mean. You know how real bad smells you can’t get away from just make you angry. I was afraid to breathe because I thought the smell would get on my tongue and I’d taste it. Looking around, everyone else acted like nothing out of the ordinary was happening. I thought I was the only one that smelled it. So I figured I had dragged my hand through shit on the handrail and had touched my top lip. However, one day my flat mate and I from Turkey were speaking about it and he said the same thing. So I am not crazy! Spanish people let out some hideous smells on crowded public transport, but the other ones pretend they don’t smell a thing.

4.) One of the most surprising things I have noticed in Spain, not just Madrid is that Spanish people can NOT dance. I know, I know, you must be thinking I am wrong. It’s the truth though, I swear! I figured, Puerto Ricans invented Salsa and Meringue, Cuba has the Mambo and Brazil the Samba. But if you notice, all those dances are from LATIN America, not Spain. Yes, Spain has Flamenco, but it is not the type of dance where you can do your thing to in a club. Spanish people don’t even dance as well as white people from the United States. I mean, white people in the states are surrounded by Latin and black people so they get rhythm my osmosis or something. You can’t imagine how dishearting it is to be at a concert and the entertainer tries to get everyone to clap to the beat of the song, and all the Spanish people start out ok, but then do that clapping faster and faster thing until they have to stop. I thought only white people did that?? How can these be the decedents of the same people that in Mambo Kings??? Obviously it’s the African blood.

5.) That brings me nicely into my next observation…Music in Madrid (i.e. Spain) is AWFUL. Music from Spain is the worst I have ever heard in all of my travels. Now, let me clarify something, Spanish music is NOT Salsa, Meringue or anything like that. That is LATIN music. Also, Spanish people for some reason are quick to distance themselves from that type of music. I personally think it is because they look down on non-Spain Spanish people. What they consider Spanish music is not Spanish at all. It’s Rock and Pop, which is from the U.S., but they sing in Spanish. That is like someone from Sweden using Salsa beats, but singing in Swedish calling it Swedish music. No, it doesn’t work like that. All the clubs play that cheesy techno music that was dead 10 years ago at least. If you are lucky they play that…most likely they are playing 80’s rock music, AC/DC, Metallica and Black Sabbath. There are a few Hip-Hop clubs in the city, but they are always wall-to-wall with people. Since Spanish people can’t dance it’s like going to a contest for people trying to act like fishes, entirely too much flopping around, jerking and twitching for me.

6.) Another observation, is that here in Madrid, they dub everything into Spanish. No matter the movie or television program they dub it into Spanish. When I tell people from Madrid that in the States we dub nothing they don’t believe me. It’s a Spanish film, then get ready to read when you go to the movies because it will be in Spanish with English subtitles. People who saw Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon in the theatres? Yo’ asses read during the entire film. Here? No. They even dub the parts of the movie not meant to be dubbed! For example, you remember the old Rambo movies? You know how when the Russians spoke in Russian they put what they said in subtitles? Well here they don’t. They dub it in Spanish with the voice over people trying to speak with a Russian accent. Now the funniest thing I have ever heard is a Spanish Russian. But the BEST has to be when they have martial arts movies and the Spanish voice over people try and speak like they are Chinese. It’s bad enough in English, but in Spanish it is just plain wrong. They dub so much here that people have no idea what Tom Cruise, George Clooney, Brad Pitt or anyone else famous really sound like. The guy who does the voice for Tom Cruise recently did a voice over for a car commercial here in Madrid. How about people were seriously going around talking about, “Hey, did you know Tom Cruise drives a Honda Civic? Oh yes, he is doing the commercial for them on TV.” An entire city of people (6 million) truly believes that Will Smith is fluent in Spanish after watching I, Robot….

7.) Let’s just stay on the public media of Madrid for a bit more. I know people in the states are too hung up on nudity and such on television. The Janet Jackson Super Bowl titty is proof of that. I am not in the least bit prude, however, I have to say television here in Madrid has made me say, “What the hell!?” more than once. Once such incidences is the commercial for “Bring it up.” Now, that is the actual name of the product. I have not made this up in the least. Now let me explain the product. It is this clear plastic tape/cover that women can place on their breasts to actually, “Bring it up” so they don’t sag. On the commercial, which I saw at 1pm in the afternoon on T.V. had old women displayed topless with their breasts hanging down to their waists….they then preceded to pull up their breasts like they were raising a Venetian blind and secure them in place with this “Bring it up” product. I didn’t even react at first because I just knew I had not seen what I did. But the next commercial break? Sure enough, more titties using “Bring it up.” Another observation is for some reason, Spanish people don’t like being alone on television. There is never one host like Oprah, Jay Leno, David Letterman, etc, etc. They always have a table with at least 5 people sitting around it all trying to speak at the same time. There is a late night show, can’t remember the name and it isn’t important. What IS important is that every show, at it comes on about 11pm or so. Remember, in Madrid they eat dinner at 10pm most nights… So at 11pm, they have a show that comes on that has ALWAYS has a striptease act or people getting naked on the set. When I say naked, I mean NAKED. I saw three women perform their strip routine in a bed, touching and kissing, with the little runway strip on the coochie showing. You know what; maybe Madrid isn’t that bad at all….Guaranteed naked women every night of the week! On that same show, they were showing Porn from the 20’s and 30’s. One of the many hosts kept on saying, “Toma! Toma! Tomalo! Tomalo!” when it got to the scene where a man was trying to force a woman to go down on him. For all the none Spanish speakers, Tomar is the verb for take, so literal translation is “Take it! Take it! Take IT!” I couldn’t help it and fell out laughing.

Ok, that is enough for now. I am going to have to break these Observations up into two parts. I haven’t even begun to get started yet on these people. Hope this was worth the wait.

Random Observations and things to make you say, "hhhmm..."

RANDOM OBSERVATIONS
AND THINGS TO MAKE YOU
SAY
Hhhhhmm……

These are things that have rattled around inside my brain the last month when I didn’t have my laptop. Some are observations, others questions and then there are those things that might just make you wonder…

1.) Gift certificates to restaurants, or more specifically, gift certificates to fast food restaurants. What in the hell is that about? You have to be one of the laziest, most uncreative muthafukkas in the world if you buy someone a gift certificate to McDonalds or Burger King. If someone gave me one of those things I would seriously have to ask them, “Are you out your damn mind?!” With all the stores and shops out there and the millions of gift options you went out and bought a free pass for artery clogging, rat shit infested, nothing real about it food? Unless you have given one of those things to a homeless person or someone morbidly obese you need to be shame! They even had commercials for these things on TV when I was back in the states for Christmas. Wanted to convince people it was ok to do. “I love you so I got you a certificate for a Big Mac Meal. But you have to pay for the Super Size yourself.” Next they’ll have gift certificates for hookers! “I couldn’t think of anything, so I got you this coupon to get a blowjob.” Wait. That might not be a bad idea actually. We could call them Hoepons, or Trickficates. I may be on to something here! “My boy got me a gift certificate for a handjob! Dat’s my nigga!” I’m just shaking my damn head cause I wouldn’t be surprised if soon we all get a message about this really happening somewhere in like Chicago or Memphis.

2.) People who get upset if you are online talking to someone else at the same time. I mean, it’s not like a phone call where you can’t speak to two people at once. If you would be a little more patient then everything would be fine. I have traveled quite a bit and have made more than a few friends. What makes you think, you not being my girlfriend and all, that I’m going to forsake them, and don’t forget my family as well, to ONLY speak with you when I actually am able to get online?? You have GOT to be a little more realistic on this one.

3.) If your screen name has sexy, fine, dime, or some other “clever” insinuation that you look good, are a catch or are on a higher level than other people, i.e. “2good4U”, “UcantHANDLEthis”, “2flyshorty”, etc, etc. You had better make damn sure that what you are implying is true. If I see one more obese bitch with a name like “OuttaYOleague” or something else like that, I will start to call you out. This is getting ridiculous with all these people out of touch with reality. How can anyone in their right mind put up a photo of Alicia Keys on their page and say they look like Alicia Keys. I mean, if you admire her singing that’s one thing, love her sense of style is another. But heffa, you are so black you are purple, are so fat you look like you ATE Alicia Keys but somehow you have convinced yourself that people will be able to see the resemblance… Oh, on another note, that website where you upload a photo and it tells you which celebs you look like? That thing is using some flawed science. I did it once and knew that website was on crack when it said I looked 68% like Jessica Alba. I’m black with a shaved head and I look like Jessica Alba? Stop taking those things to heart people, they are just for fun!

4.) What has happened to R&B? Seriously, what has happened to R&B?

5.) Women who talk about how gross coochies are, and how you could never put your tongue in something that looks so strange especially when you can’t tell if it’s clean… And then you turn around and say your boyfriend is selfish and won’t go down on you. No, no, no it doesn’t work like that! You NEVER, ever, ever hear guys talk about how nasty dicks are. I mean, come on women, you don’t think those images you so expertly describe don’t stick with men who hear the things you are talking about? YUCK! That is exactly what I think when women go on about funky coochies. Think about it for a second women. The penis is on the outside, you can see everything that’s going on with it. “Oh no. Oh hell muthfuggin’ no! What is that right there?? You know what I mean negro! That wart looking thing with the hair growing out of it.” For men we have to go off of smell and hope.

6.) What ever happened to Arsenio Hall??

7.) When I grow up, I want to be in charge of the governmental agency that awards research grants. Lately I have been reading about too many research studies that are only stating the obvious. You “scientists” are wasting good money! We could be giving that money to real researchers. Did we truly need a 3 year study costing $125,000 to find out eating fatty foods and not exercising is bad for you?? We already knew that! When I was 10 I knew eating fried chicken, fried pork chops, pound cake, green beans with fatback, Pizza Hut pizza with cheese in the crust, Whoppers with extra mayo and pints of Ben&Jerry’s Chunky Monkey then just sitting around watching TV could kill your ass. All I had to do was listen to how all my fat uncles would breathe even when they were just sitting around in chairs. They sounded like ghetto Darth Vaders with all that raspy intake. Didn’t need a government grant to know they weren’t going to live too much longer if they didn’t change something in their diet and move around a bit. Oh, and those studies they come out with every 2 or 3 years showing that if you have an “ethnic” sounding name you are less likely to get hired even if you have the same qualifications as a Jane Smith or Bob Williams. You think?? Well thank you Mr. Smarty Pants, I had no idea with America’s history that someone with a name like Tameka or DeAndre would have a harder time landing a job in corporate America. Wow, that $200,000 was well spent! Will the geniuses who recently completely the study in 2005 please stand up and take a boy for spending $176,890 to let us know smoking is bad for your health. Like the guy who has to hold that metal thing up to his throat to speak didn’t let us know that already? If I were in charge, I would want someone to study are there any naturally occurring substances we can take right before last call to prevent beer goggles so we don’t sleep with anyone hideous. Or, find out why when I have to pee, I can hold it all damn day with no problem, but as soon as I get within 3 feet of the toilet my bowels act like they are around kryptonite and lose their strength. I’m like a three year old dancing to undo my pants. Away from the toilet, I’m fine. Close to it and the pee act like they are illegal immigrants trying to run across the border to get away from INS agents. Find out why that happens and that will be grant worthy.

8.) Why do people forget that their cars have windows? They work both ways people. If you are diggin’ in your nose like you are trying to scratch the frontal lobe of your brain, chances are there are people staring at you doing it going “Eeeeeewwww!”. Have we become a society of people so self absorbed we aren’t aware of our surroundings?? I can see you trying to sing and dance to Justin Timberlake and it’s not working.

9.) I am fed up with rappers in songs talking about how when they didn’t have money no female wanted them, but now that they are on wax they got all the ladies. Dammit Mike Jones you aren’t a pimp. Those women are only Gold Diggers! If you don’t stay hot long, they will treat you the same damn way they did before you got on. Stop letting everybody know that you have no mic game! Being broke doesn’t mean you can’t attract women, just means you have to alter your approach! Believe me, going to a private university in Boston was not cheap. But I promise you my broke ass did OK in Boston, Ya heard! On the other hand, I know that Twista was a lonely young man back in the day.

10.) How can people with bad breath and long nose hairs not know they have bad breath and long nose hairs? Don’t you see people covering their noses and passing out when you get too close? Strangers on the subway offering you packs of gum?? Unless you are a vampire you have to look in the mirror at some point. You don’t see that forest coming out of your nose? Handle that man, that’s just nasty.

11.) What ever happened to the soda company that used to make the sodas in all those crazy flavors? I think it was RC Cola. They had Peach soda, Black Cherry Soda, Tropical Fruit soda, they even had a Mango Soda. When I was a kid, RC Cola was currency in the hood! You could pay kids to do anything with a Peach Soda and a cinnamon bun back in the day.

12.) I’m sorry, but white people, your ass rating privileges have been REVOKED! For EVER! How in the hell can you have a show in VH1 about celebrities who have the nicest ass and the top 5 aren’t all Latin or Black? Can someone please explain that one to me?? Kylie Minogue has a better ass then Vivica Fox or Halle Berry or anyone Puerto Rican for that matter? You people are on crack! How can people who don’t have the thing in question rate it? It’s like a bunch of blind men going around rating who has the prettiest eyes, makes absolutely no sense. I was watching this VH1 special wondering why it wasn’t just full of black and Latin entertainers. I’m not saying there aren’t some white women with bunz. I’m just saying it’s a rarity. There is a serious case of eye stigmatisms going around because white girls are going around saying they have “Ghetto Booties”. First of all you have never been to the ghetto, second of all it looks like you have a stack of books hidden in your jeans. That rectangle butt you got. Just sit down and leave it to the African and Columbian people to rate asses.
13.) What happened to Lauryn Hill? The MisEducation of Lauryn Hill is easily one of the greatest albums EVER. I shit you not from the first song to the last including the little intros with the students talking in the class is music at its FINEST. The video for Doo Wop still gets me hype. The split screen with the throw back Lauryn in the 60’s hairdo and the other side with the Hip Hop Lauryn? Off the meat rack!! What happened to her? I saw some photos of her recently on the internet….I thought it was Macy Gray! Nothing against Macy Gray, but Lauryn, baby, comb your hair before you leave the house. Are things so bad you have to smoke crack Lauryn? I’m not rich but I will send you some money to help you out girl. This one hurts cause I love me some Lauryn Hill.

14.) Had to add one more because it’s bad luck to end on 13 observations… My family is the greatest and I miss them more and more the longer I’m away from them.

Observations of an Organic Farm

OBSERVATIONS OF AN ORGANIC FARM

If you notice, the title says Observations of AN Organic Farm. That means the particular farm I worked on and its ideocycracies, not all organic farms.

Now, to answer a question I am sure is at the forfront of your minds, ‘How did I end up working on an organic farm for 3 weeks?’. Well, there are quite a few logical reasons actually. The most important reason was that I needed to conserve money before I moved to Spain. Luckily, Gill, my friend from New Zealand, who I worked on the farm with, did some research and found out about something called W.O.O.F.ing. It stands for, Working on Organic Farms. There is a huge network and organization apparently that helps farms find workers and vice versa. In exchange for work, the owners of the farms give you free room and board. Every sitution is different, but we lucked out to in that the owners of the farm only wanted 4 hours of work in the morning and a little help in the evening with dinner if there were guests, they also ran a Bed & Breakfast. As nice as the place and the owners where, I did of course observe a few things that compelled me to write these following observations.

1.) The promised healthy living of the Organic Farm was a huge draw for me. The last week in Latvia, due to an ordering error, we were served Sausage for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I was so tired of the sight of sausage that I had to close my eyes when I went to take a pee. I needed to cleanse my system and figured an Organic Farm was the perfect place to do so. I even decided to become a vegetarian during my time on the farm. Only had meat twice in the 3 weeks I was on the farm and rarely had eggs. In saying that I have attempted to live a vegetarian lifestyle, I must say that....Ain’t no way in hell is it natural to just eat fruits and vegetables!!! Now just hear me out to all the Vegans and Vegetarians out there. Run your tongue over the bottom and top middle 4 teeth of your mouth. Feel that edge? It’s God’s way of saying you need to eat some meat! I mean, especially in the States we have far too much meat in our diet. However, you at least gotta eat some chicken and fish once in awhile. Caring for animals and their well-being is comendable. But, I almost died trying to eat nothing but vegetables for every meal! You can have muscles, or you can be a vegetarian, you can’t be a vegetarian with muscles. If that was the case then all the great athletes of the world would be Vegans. I was walking around day dreaming about meat. People would ask me questions and I would answer in types of meat. “Good morning Carl. How do you feel today?” “BBQ Ribs!!” “Carl, did you finish mowing the lawn?” “Fried chicken!!!!” It was like I was posessed by KFC or Big Tim’s BBQ stand.

2.) In saying it isn’t natural to be a vegetarian, I will say eating meat takes on a completely different meaning when you help feed and care for the animals that get eaten. They had about 11 or 12 sheep on the farm. Feeding them wasn’t my job, but if they were in their pen when I walked past I would take a handful of hay and handfeed them. It was cool. I even got to know a few by their names. Being a Cityboy, I just assummed they had sheep for their wool. I mean, who would name their sheep like pets and then kill and eat them?? One day, the owners Kris & Steve said they were going out to “process” Henri. I thought process meant sheer......Well it doesn’t. That night at dinner, the guests were served lamb. Being that my brain was suffering from a lack of protein, it was operationg at a slower pace than usual. About halfway through the meal it dawned on me....They were eating Henri!! The guests I could forgive, but Kris and Steve knew him like I did. It was like sitting next to some cannibals. They were eating a friend! And why did they have to eat Henri! Sheep by nature are retarded animals, but Henri actually recognized me and would walk up to me and let me pet him. They should have eaten Tony! All he did was spray shit all over the place and cause stampedes with all his running around if you so much as looked at him. You don’t kill the strong!!

3.) One of my duties on the farm was to gather eggs from the hens and feed them everyday. Ok, Imma tell you right na...I was afraid of the chickens and especially that Rooster. How come no one ever talks about how big Roosters get!? The chickens would just be waiting for you at the door to the enclosure when it was time for feeding. That movie Chicken Run kept running through my head. It was like they were keeping watch, and then would start clucking and running around when I walked up warning the others to hide the plane. Getting the eggs wasn’t too difficult if you fed the chickens first. Sometimes though, they would start to brood. Brood in normal people speak is when the hens want babies and don’t get up off their eggs volunterially. For Gill, it was no problem. She was raised in the New Zealand country so nothing daunted her in the least. She would just go in the coops like it was nothing just pushing aside chickens like she was a Jamaican Dundada. I on the other hand had my own method.....The Scared Negro Method. I mean, I was going into a small enclosure with an animal that wanted to have babies and I was taking her eggs. Females are irrational by nature, and then to go messin’ with their kids!? I found a big ass tree branch first and took it in the coop with me. The hen didn’t move at all, but just sat their glaring at me...”Now what in the hell does he think he is going to do with that stick?” I told the hen straight up,”Aiight naw. You can at crazy if you won’t. We are in an enclosed environment, so if you make one move fight or flight is going to kick in like a motha. See this stick? I will beat yo ass to death save myself if you force me to. So get up off dem eggs before I haf to hurt cha. Gone naw! Stop playin’!” Laugh if you want to, but I know at least half of you all would have done the same or not gone in at all. Tell the truth! And fresh eggs don’t look anything like FRESH eggs from the chicken. Eggs come from the asshole of the hens. So they all have blood, shit and feathers all on the eggs when you first get them. I know that was a big part in me not eating too many eggs while I was there also.

4.) Lets stay in this chicken thing for one more observation. I want to know who first started the lie that Roosters crow in the morning? That is the biggest myth on a farm. You know when Roosters crow? Anytime yo ass is trying to sleep! I think it’s the hens complaining to the Rooster about us taking their eggs, so he has to do something to save face with his females, so he just crows at all hours of the day, 3am he crows, at 7am he crows, trying to take a nap at 2pm he muthafuggin crows. Not just one cockle-doodle-doo either, but over and over and over. I got to the point that I would lay awake in bed waitin for the damn Rooster to start crowing. I think he did the same thing with me, but he waited for me to go to sleep then he would say, “Showtime!” I got my revenge though before I left. One night, I snuck outside and threw a handful of rocks on the roof of the coop. Scared the shit out of those chickens. Figured it was even after that.

5.) It seems to me, that people who run organic farms are more accepting of certain pests and animals than the average person. One night, the owners and a couple of their friends sat around after dinner telling rat biting stories. As in stories of when they had been bitten by rats. I swear! One story, the owners of the farm I worked on KNEW they had a rat but didn’t do a thing about it. They figured all God’s creatures could live together in harmony. Now black people are some of the most churchified people I know, I would bet you a kidney, and your lungs that ain’t no black people willingly living with any rats even if it had a name tag on it saying one of God’s special creatures. Only after the rat ate all the insulation around the Frig did they then try and kill it. Before it died it bit one of the owners. Of course I had no sympathy. You let the rat stay there like it was your sister with her 3 kids! You let a cat hang around, maybe a small dog. Ok, ok, on a farm owls in the barn are fine…but a rat!? Think about all the diseases they have!

6.) Another one of my responsibilities was feeding the rabbits. No, I am not afraid of rabbits, but in saying that, those rabbits were big as hell. Matter of fact, they weren’t even rabbits but hares. Yes, to all the non farm people, there is a difference. Rabbits are cute and small and you want to pick them up and pet them. Hares are big with freaky red eyes and huge back legs that look like they could put a dent in your forehead. Hares though are meek animals, it wasn’t them that this next observation is about it’s about feeding them. The owners said to feed the hares, certain grasses and plants and stay away from others. I would put the name of the plants and grasses but I can’t even begin to spell them. For Gill, it was easy. She knew the name of everything so it took her 2 minutes to fill up a bucket with edible stuff to feed the rabbits. When it was my turn?? I was out there for hours. How in the hell was I supposed to know what was harmful or good? I would wander around the garden scratching my head examining every blade of grass wondering if it was safe or not to feed the hares. I would be terrified that the next day I would go out to the catches and all the hares would just be stiff from eating poison berries I had given them.

These are all I have... my backback containing my travel journals was stolen in Madrid and these were all I could remember about my time on the organic farm. Hope the person who stole it gets crabs and two broken arms so they can't scratch!

All THIS for some hot water???

Just another story from my travels that I thought you might find amusing.


I am in Casablanca and you have to pay for hot showers if you want one. I decided to pay the extra money because I needed to shave as well and I hate shaving with cold water. I went to the front desk to get the key for the shower. The front desk clerk tells me that the shower is downstairs and I have shower #1. Easy enough I figure. I go downstairs and there are rooms where the front desk clerk said there are showers. I am walking along this hallway to find the showers, and this hallway is never ending. I keep on passing room after room but no showers. The hallway takes a right, then another right before I come upon the shower. Not shower #1, but THE shower. As in there are no other showers but this one on the entire floor. My key opens the door so I know I have the right shower. I walk in, and it is unlike any shower room I have ever seen in my life. First off, it really is a room, no stalls, benches or anything, just a huge, white, bare 10 x 12 room. It is the damndest thing. There are hooks to hang your towel and clothes by the door, but the actual shower nozzle is waaaaaay across the room. There was nothing else along the walls that could be used as hooks to hang up my towel on. There were not even other sockets like there had been more showers in the room at some point in time. Why someone would turn a room that size into a single shower stall I do not know. Another thing that stood out right away is the fact that there is no drain. In addition, the floor was perfectly level. I mean that if there was no drain, and there was no decline that allowed the water to run to a corner of the room…Where did it go??? There was a red stool in the room also, but it was wet so it made me think someone had been sitting naked on it recently. I did NOT use the stool. There was a raised ledge type barrier on the floor going around the shower where a shower curtain should have been hanging. It was pointless to have the ledge since there was no drain!

I start the shower up. It is a pretty good shower I must admit, great water pressure, massage head shower nozzle. I sneezed at some point and it just resonated in the room. It was like being in Carnegie Hall butt naked in soapsuds. I started singing. Maaan, I sounded like Teddy Pendergrass, Marvin Gaye and Luther Vandross all rolled into one. I was just wailing in the shower putting on a concert for myself. Since there was no sink, I had to shave my head in the shower. No big deal at all. I have shaved so much I can do it with my eyes closed. I put the shaving cream on my head and commence to shave. However, a couple of things had since happened from when I first started my shower. I LOVE to take very hot showers. There was only one tiny window way up near the ceiling in the shower and it was closed. I started sweating while I was in the shower. Also, the steam had no where to go so it was collecting in the shower room like a storm cloud in Florida in July. I am shaving and get a bit of shaving cream in my eye, no big deal. After awhile though, with the shaving cream mixing with the sweat getting into my eyes it is starting to burn a lot. I mean my eyes are starting to feel like they are on fire. Not a problem, I can just wipe my eyes with my towel. Oh, wait! I am in a huge room so my towel is not right next to the shower. I begin to move towards the wall and I stumble over that damn ledge going around the shower. I try to open my eyes to see exactly where I am going, but the steam is so thick I cannot see a damn thing. It was like in the cartoon Scooby Doo when the fog would be so thick Scooby would cut a hole in it using his paw. My eyes started burning even more so I had to close them. I put my arms out in front of me to make sure I did not bust my nose when I reached the wall. I finally reached the wall and I was feeling around for my towel. I started searching and probing my way to where my towel was located. You remember that red stool I told you about? I didn’t. Bust my shin on it. So here is the mental image you should have here, I am butt naked, half my head has shaving cream on it, my eyes are squeezed shut as tight as I can get them, my arms are outstretched in front of me so I can feel for my towel AND I am limping. I finally find my towel and wiped my eyes so I could see. Walked back to the shower and tried to finish shaving fast.

Another thing I learned that you have to be aware of when taking a shower in a room with no ventilation is that steam consists of vaporized water and water has weight. That weight will be transferred to your lungs as you breathe in the non-ventilated shower room. My chest started hurting and my voice started sounding like an 80-year-old Jewish man who had a two pack a day habit. Then more sweat and shaving cream got into my eyes! Had to do the whole naked blind man with the half shaved head routine again. After I wiped my eyes again I knew I needed to get some air up in the room. Had no windows at all, but I did have a door. I did not want to shower with the door open, but it was a calculated risk. I cracked the door open a little bit, peeked outside and did not see or hear anyone. I started opening and closing the door really fast to try to get some circulation of air up in there. It worked a bit. I ran back to the shower to finish shaving. Even with the door cracked, it still was foggy as hell in that shower room. By this point, my contacts were wrecked so I could not see anything with my eyes open. I turned off the shower, knelt down to try and find my soap gel, shaving cream and razor I put on the floor of the room. Not sure how long it took me to do this, but it was long enough for someone else who needed to take a shower to not hear water or a person moving around to think the shower was free. Add that the door was unlocked AND open and I would have thought the same thing. The steam was starting to thin out a bit, but it was still pea soup and hard to see anything. However, my ears worked perfectly fine. I heard someone come in the shower and start heading to where I was crouched down. I jumped up and at the same time screamed “Aaah!!” Let me set this mental image for you again, but from the other person’s perspective. You walk into a shower room that is hot, humid and thick with steam. You walk towards where you think the shower nozzle is to put your shower things. All of sudden, this black man with white streaks running down his head from front to back, white goatee (from the shaving cream smeared in it), razor in one hand, shaving cream in another with devil red eyes opened as wide as possible screaming “Aaah!!” pops out of nowhere butt ass naked. It might give you a tad bit of a fright. Scared the shit out of the poor lil’ white girl who walked in on me. She looked like the Flintstones when they first start their cars. How they are running in place for a second or two before the traction kicks in and the cars zoom off. She did the same thing, but running backwards. I was very impressed. I got all my stuff together and got dressed. Made my way upstairs expecting to have half the Casablanca Police force waiting for me there with a terrified white girl screaming, “That’s him!” But all was quiet and the front desk clerk asked me if the shower was Ok. I told him it was worth writing a story about.

A funny thing happened on the way to the airport...

A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE AIRPORT….


I usually send observations out of the countries I have visited. This time I am doing a little something different for a couple of reasons. One reason is a couple of people have said I should consider writing a book throwing together all my observations and funny stories. Secondly, this last big travel trip I took through Spain, Portugal, Africa and Andorra I was traveling with someone which took away from my ability to observe things as well as I wanted. You will still get the observations of those countries, but not up to my usual standards. So instead, you get this true story, or at least true in the sense of this is how I remember it, if you can find witnesses that testify to it happening then good for you and get a life. Do not hesitate to send me back feedback and suggestions. More than a few of you are incredibly creative, I have been out of school for too long, and my artistic juices are not flowing as freely as they once did. With that out of the way, here we go.

As I stated earlier, I traveled with someone on my holiday through all the above-mentioned countries. That is another story in it self, which you all will be getting soon enough. Anyway, my job gave me two free nights in this hotel in Paris. I arrived at the hotel very late and asked how far away the airport was since the flight I needed to meet the next day arrived at 6:30am. The Night Clerk told me no more than 10 minutes. I figured I was set. I figured out that getting through immigration alone at Charles de Gaulle airport would take at least an hour, not counting luggage retrieval time I could take my time getting to the airport and everything would be smooth. Oh how wrong I was.

To start things off I overslept. Set my alarm for 6pm instead of 6am. No worries I am thinking, even though I woke up late since I was still so close to the airport I would just skip breakfast and go straight to the shuttle. I walk up to the front desk and ask which way to the shuttle. This is where things started going down hill very fast. The clerk looked at me with this confused dazed look in her eye and said she did not know of any shuttle in the area. I just figured she was new and asked someone else behind the desk. He said the same thing! They did know of a bus I could take that would take me to a metro station that would take me to a rapid train station, which would take me to the airport. I knew I was in trouble then. I ran to the bus stop, and I knew it was the right bus stop because it was right in front of a KFC with black folks waiting with grease stains around their mouths from the 2-piece meal they were eating for breakfast. Ghetto is ghetto even in France. Get on the bus, buy my ticket and everything is cool. The bus gets to the stop I need and the doors open. As soon as the doors to the bus opened these French bus agents jump on the bus as if they are the F.B.I. They came on lined up three abreast so they blocked the exit to the bus. Then another two came on through the front door blocking that way as well. They were like pinball flippers knocking people back in play when someone tried to get off the bus. I was confused as hell cause all the agents were talking in rapid fire French. Then I realized they were letting off who showed a bus pass or ticket. No problem. I showed mine, fully expecting to be let off, but the F.B.I., I mean bus agent would not let me off the bus. I do not speak French and the agent did not speak English so he could not understand why he was not letting me off the bus. All of this took place within a 20-second period, just enough time for the bus driver to close the doors and speed off to the next stop. One of the agents who did speak English explained to me that when I bought the ticket I had to put it through this little machine behind the driver that validated the ticket. In addition, since my ticket was not validated I had to pay a 45-euro fine. Hah! I started taking off the earrings and watch cause it was about to be a fight on the bus fo’ real, forty five euros because I didn’t know about a machine BEHIND the driver!? In Belgium, the machine is right next to the driver and he validates the ticket for you. In the UK, it is the same way. I was vexed. I figured if I was going to be paying a fine I was going to be paying a fine for something. The same agent said that if I had my passport proving I was a foreigner who did not know I would be off the hook. I always have my passport so I was off the hook. But the muthafucker was taking his time looking at my stamps trying to ask me about some of the countries I had visited. All the while, my stop was getting further and further away in the distance.
I finally was let off and had to run back to the stop I wanted in the first place. Get to the Metro station and get to the stop that has the rapid train to the airport. You have to buy a separate ticket for the rapid train. Get to the ticket office and there is a line literally out of the door for people waiting to buy tickets. GREAT! I was very late by this point. I waited in the line for 10 minutes and realized it was not going anywhere. Luckily, I had my new French bankcard on me and saw a ticket machine in the room, took me another 10 minutes to buy my ticket since the machine was only in French. I narrowly avoided buying a ticket to London instead of just the airport. Had my ticket in hand and I ran to the appropriate platform to catch the airport train. Of course, it is not a direct line but a commuter line. So every single stop we had to wait for the fat woman with all of her groceries, the school class on fieldtrip and the man in the wheelchair who I think al lurk around corners waiting to jump on the trains when people are in a rush to slow the trains down even more.
Finally go to the airport around 8:30am. Over 2 hours since the plane landed. Reach into my pockets to get the flight information and DAMN! I forgot the paper with the flight information. Could not remember which gate or terminal the plane arrived at. Since I was so late, they had taken that flight info down from the Arrivals screen. I as running around like chicken with its head cut off. While I am running around to see if my friend was, is just waiting for me, they are constantly paging this person over and over and over again to come and get his luggage. I go check with the Airline Company and find out the gate of the flight. Of course, I need the terminal on the complete opposite of the airport. Can I get to that terminal though? No! That man they kept on paging to come get his luggage? He never showed up, so in this day and age the Police department, Bomb squad and the Intelligence agencies were called in to investigate the luggage. They cordoned off the entire area and no one was allowed to pass. I ended up waiting over an hour for this situation to resolve itself. It was resolved in that they just ended up blowing up the bag right there in the airport terminal. I was stuck in the lower level of the terminal directly beside the staircase the bag had been left. A gang of white, American, tourists was stuck on the level with me during this ordeal. When they were all set to blow up the bag, all the French people backed the fuck up and put their fingers in their ears. Now, I do not speak a word of French, but I do understand people backing up, scooping up kids and fingers in ears in all languages. The white Americans were CLUELESS. They stood milling around like sheep, some even tried to get closer to see what all the commotion was about. One dummy even tried to walk up the stairs because he thought it was open since the Policeman guarding the stairs was no longer there. Guess she didn’t see the hundred French people and one black man pushed as far back in the hallway away from the stairs as possible and 30 or so Americans just milling around the staircase. Then one Policeman ran downstairs and put up one hand with three fingers. He then started a countdown in French. Again, even if you do not speak French, you have to understand something is going to happen when it gets to no fingers. The Policeman went down to two fingers; people are forgetting about body space and cramming in as tight as they can, down to one finger and people are closing their eyes and squinting real hard like all people do when they know something scary or loud is going to happen……One finger and BA BOOM BLAM !!! I had my fingers in my ears and knew the blast was coming and it still made me almost piss myself. Poor white people (I am shaking my damn head right now) the blast sent about half the group straight into the air. The other half started screaming at the top of their lungs and running in all directions like a herd of Elephants on those old Tarzan movies. As we all know, when white people attempt to flee in sheer terror and panic….they trip and fall. Trip and fall they did. One woman was so big she had cankles. You know, calves and ankles together because the fat has fused the two together. She fell dead on her knees and elbows AND she was wearing a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt. I think the sound of her bare skin hitting linoleum with that much momentum and force equaled the sound of the bag being exploded. Since the French people had been given the all clear signal they had let their kids go and taken their fingers out of their ears. They got frightened at the second “explosion” and almost start stampeding. Luckily, the Policemen calmed them down and got some order restored. In the middle of it all, was one Black man rollin’ on the floor in laughter that had seen the entire thing happen and could not wait to write it down in his journal.

The epilogue to this story….
They had not cleaned up the suitcase they exploded so you could see it as you came up the stairs. No bomb inside, but hella burnt up underwear, t-shirts, socks, shaving cream and papers. I stood up on a chair in the area to get a better view of the area to catch a glimpse of my friend. I was able to see the person whose suitcase it was they blew up. There was this loud, “What the fuck?!” Ok, that was not said. I actually heard a loud yell in Arabic but I am sure that is what the person was saying. At least it is what I would have said. And personally, the man should count himself lucky they only blew up his bag. The man looked like Osama’s Uncle on his daddy’s side 3rd removed. Seriously, he had the full beard, turban, flowing robes and everything. If he would have left his bag like that in a New York airport, they might have attached him to the bag and blown him up with it just to play it safe. Then when his family came to inquire about their relative, they would have arrested them for conspiracy for terrorism and shipped them to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.

Observations on Relationships II

Here is the second part to my observations on relationships.

3.) “I Fell In……” It seems like people are falling in something around here, but it’s not love. I’ve seen people do the Fall in Complacency many times. Meaning, the person isn’t right for them, they KNOW the person isn’t right for them, but they are comfortable with the way things are and don’t want to rock the boat. They enjoy having someone, ANYONE around so they stay. Then there’s the Fall in Fear. They are afraid that’s as good as it gets, there is nothing else better coming so they grab on to what they know they have, instead of having faith that what they want is just a little further down the path. Oh, let’s not the forget the Fall in Paper. This is simply you meet someone who on paper should be the one for you. They have the looks, the personality, the same goals, right pedigree, EVERYTHING on your list has a checkmark next to it. Yet, that spark isn’t there. That Je ne sais pas quality everyone yearns for. So the paper characteristics keep them with that person when they know something essential is missing. Then last but not least.. the Fall in Challenge. The person is ok, but they have a few qualities that keep them from being PERFECT, bad boy, player, stripper, slut, etc, etc. You know, I mean you KNOW with your love that you can get them to change their ways. So you lose sight of the actual love that may exist for that person and focus on the challenge of the “transformation”. Or, you don’t love the person at all and just love the challenge. Eventually you get frustrated, lose site of what’s truly important and become bitter. Just said I tell ya.

4.) Arrogance. In my opinion this may be the most common pitfall I observe in relationships and I think on some level most of us are guilty of this transgression. Think about how many times you’ve thought to yourself, or told your friends, “I’m a great catch for someone. Any man would be lucky to have someone like me as a girlfriend. I have x, y, z which makes me better than average.” I know I’m guilty of this myself. I’m in my 30’s, no kids, no ex-wives, well educated, world traveler, great cook, attractive, I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t want me?? Isn’t that what we say? I went on a date with a woman once and she told me all I needed to know about her in the first 30 minutes. She proceeded to explain to me, in detail mind you, what a man needed to do in a relationship to make her happy. I thought she was crazy. Her requests of what she wanted a man to do weren’t crazy, I thought those were quite reasonable. What made her crazy in my eyes was how she presented these demands/requests on the first date!! Forget telling me about what I need to do, what in the hell are you going to do for me to put up with your insecurities, shortcomings and baggage?? Honestly, think how a relationship would be fundamentally different if we entered into them being a little more appreciative we found someone willing to be by our side while we try to get a little further along the path of understanding and self-discovery. Instead of talking about my lack of alimony I have to pay, or my AMAZING out of this WORLD oral skills which makes me a prize. I need to be telling women right up front, look, I was a late bloomer and was picked on a lot in high school. Because of that, I tend to be really shy at times and not trust people who say I’m attractive or want to get to know me better because I feel unworthy. Or, hey, I make it extremely difficult by setting up walls and pushing people away when I am going through a hard time instead of letting them in and explaining the situation. Right away a woman would know what the fuck she’s getting herself into and she can decide if it’s worth the trouble. Then, if she brings up those issues later, I can tell her “I told you! Don’t act like you didn’t know I was this way!” LOL! Seriously people, we all have these areas of ourselves, from past relationship failures to abusive periods in our former lives that have created scars. We try to over compensate for those scars or hide them because we believe it makes us unattractive. A relationship involves the risk of pain and suffering, so reveal the scars from the start, you never know, maybe that person you’re interested has the same ones and you can help each other out during the healing process. Or, you know from jump it wouldn’t work and you save each other’s time and can maybe salvage a friendship so you can still go to the gym at the same time and act civil when you see each other and not scream and yell and throw 1lb weights at each other and have the staff call the police to escort you out the building in the freezing cold cause you just in a sleeveless t-shirt and basketball shorts and you have a million Turkish people standing around watching, laughing and pointing .. Oh.. uuuuumm…. Yeah. Ok, moving on..

5.) Absence of Education. Now, I don’t mean lack of a college degree or special training. I mean absence of an education in healthy relationships. With a show of hands, who’s parents are still married? Look around, not so many huh? Now, with a show of hands, how many people can honestly say their parents are HAPPILY married?? We are not being “taught” how in the hell a relationship is supposed to work! If many people base what they’ve learned about relationships from today’s culture it’s yell as loud as you can when you have an argument and don’t sit down quietly to hear each other’s side, beat the shit out of each other, don’t try and have empathy and place yourself in the other person’s position and expect them to always work to make it better while you do nothing. I hear about people with serious issues blaming other people for why their relationships aren’t working. As a whole, it seems like society has become selfish, lazy and stubborn. If there were any traits that can cause problems in a relationship, those are it.

I have my faults. Matter of fact, I have MANY faults. The one thing I can say though is that I am very aware of how my faults effect how I interact with people. When I see, or am told what I’m doing, I apologize immediately. It is sad and extremely frustrating to be in a relationship with someone, anyone who either does not possess the ability or refuses to focus internally and question if what you do affects the world around you and the people in that world. It’s one thing to say you aren’t perfect, yet completely different to actually try and improve. Improvement is not about attainting perfection, it’s about moving further along a path. I think it’s obvious from this blog I recently got out of a relationship. Usually, a failed relationship has no effect on me at all. I’m a little sad it ended, but I think, that’s life. This time though… For the first time in YEARS, I wanted this relationship to work. When I say I wanted it to work I say I wanted this woman to be the end all to be all. I gave more of myself to her than I have given anyone. But, according to her, I’m not passionate, expect too much from someone I’m dating and try to talk about problems too much. Right… MOI not passionate??? My Mother tells me a fault of mine is that I’m TOO generous and I’m a bad guy for trying to communicate??? You know what? I wish her the best. I do. There is something about that woman that pulls me to her in a way I can’t understand. I still waking up thinking what can I do to make her happy, when we aren’t together! Maybe it’s fear, maybe it’s complacency, or… maybe it’s love and I’m too arrogant, uneducated or have a lack of restraint to realize she is the one for me… I will say this though; I am finally ready to be in a relationship, a healthy one, a long one. When I find that, I promise, PROMISE that I’ll write a blog about it. Ha!