North Face Jackets and Leggings = End of the World
Posted: April 10, 2012 Filed under: life, MI, Wayne State | Tags: Cold Weather, Crotch, Funny, humor, Leggings, Michigan, Northface, Uggs 2 Comments »Global Warming doesn’t scare me. Of course I did just capitalize it…so maybe it scares me just a bit. But I’m willing to give up my great-grandkids’ future of temperate breezes and balanced sea-levels, just to be able to give my calves some hot sunshine in April. Too much to ask? I think not!
Spring is a tricky bastard. It drew us all in with 76 degree weather last month, making us feel warm, fuzzy and secure. I was ready to pick out board shorts and try on flip-flops a couple weeks ago. The shining sun got me excited and I was ready to skip over cold winds and get straight to the good stuff.
As the brisk wind continues to ruin my early summer, I realize that I really don’t have a “sufficient” jacket for this springish, winterish in-between summerless mess. So I find myself in hoodies and long sleeves, running to my classes, while trying not to freeze. I refuse to get a North Face and be like the rest of the lemmings that crowd the Wayne State campus, but dammit, those things look warm.
If I get one, I feel that I’ll be open to more influence. There’s a possibility that I’ll either become a douchebag, who actively searches for hi-fives to validate terrible jokes and quips, or I’ll stop wearing jeans and Nike’s all together and just settle for leggings and Uggs that’ll then show off my man business through a thin layer of nylon.
Pause and try to get THAT image out of your head.
But who knows, the balance of the space and time continuum could all depend on whether or not I can stay away from trendy, preppy fashion. I might be saving the world by sticking to hoodies, Levi’s and Hanes tees. So the best thing for my weak will and ::gulp:: the world, is that warm weather comes back soon. The last thing I want is to destroy our existence, just because I want my arms toasty and my crotch exposed to the elements.
The Woes and Joys of Procrastination
Posted: March 1, 2012 Filed under: life, Movies, Wayne State | Tags: Blogging, boobs, Boredom, girls, humor, Insanity Workout, Procrastination, sexting, Spotify Leave a comment »There’s nothing like having all day to do something and then waiting to the last-minute to complete it.
I’ve had all day to do this research project and I don’t have anything to show for it. I’ve paced, I’ve brainstormed, I’ve even taken a midday shower in hopes of clearing my mind. But all I’ve to during these 12 hours of pandering is made a bunch of new Spotify playlists and drafted a few text messages I’ll never send to my ex’s
“Hey, I’m bored. Let me see your boobs.”
At least not sober…
I know that entertainment isn’t the key to jump starting my motivation, but a nice pair of boobies can have magical effects.
Oh, I almost forgot. I have also started to download a bunch of movies I haven’t seen yet. So far…
and
If I finish in time, I can watch one of these! I’m trying to give myself some incentive to complete the task ahead of me. Elementary, I know.
I thought “getting a beer” would be a good one. I could finish at a decent time and head out with some friends for a much-needed beverage. But my procrastination and laziness got the best of me. Not to mention, these pajamas I’m wearing are VERY comfortable. So trying to tease my movie love was my next best alternative.
But In the process of NOT looking for relative websites to help me with my project, I’ve found a bunch of interesting blogs. I thought scrubbing through categories that were similar to mine would mean that I would find more like-minded dudes, who told funny stories of their ups and down.
I was wrong.
Blogging about your feelings seems to be a mostly female thing. And there aren’t any complaints. I just thought the kindred souls that I would find would be just as lost and male as me. But I’ll take a pretty lady hiding behind a shroud of dating expertise any day.
…and an academic who teaches English and reports on her “small victories and epic failures”.
I doubt either one of them need my help in the readership department, but there you go.
I’m fascinated at how many women on this site have blogs like theirs. Not to say that I thought women couldn’t write or put together a cohesive prose, it’s just that I hardly meet women with the ability to express themselves further than 140 characters. It’s obvious I’ve been fishing in a shallow, illiterate pool.
I hope this little post is enough to get myself in gear. If not, my insomnia will kick in and I’ll pull an all nighter and an all dayer. But I will enjoy drinks this weekend with my good friend Ski and Barwin, to celebrate Ski’s birthday. This will be my reward for surviving the week. And then, on Monday, I’ll start my Insanity Workout. Six-pack here I come!
So…You Say You Don’t Like Black Guys?
Posted: February 1, 2012 Filed under: life, Love, Wayne State | Tags: Black Girls, Hate, Love, racism, white girls 4 Comments »“I don’t date black guys,” she says. I don’t respond immediately, but I think about all the things I want to say, that I won’t.
“Well I don’t date ugly people.”
“When I was 19 I spoke without thinking too!”
“How did we even get on this subject? I didn’t know asking you about Thursday’s homework was an intricate flirtation technique!”
“I said I like food, FOOD!”
Then I say, “Well I guess that’s your choice.”
I probably went out like a punk to most of you, but I’ve heard this my whole life.
A guy like myself, who doesn’t follow the idiotic stereotypes of his own race (except for the chicken. I love Chicken!!), looks to meet someone who also feels the same way about their race.
My friends joke with me constantly about how my track record is mostly one-sided, leaning closer to white women than any other. Some might conclude that I don’t prefer to date women of my race, but that’s just ridiculous. I live in Warren. And I can’t help that. But damn if I’m gonna scour the white plains of this backwards town in hopes of finding my ‘Ark Mate’, who will make everything “complete” for me. I don’t chase color.
And as an educated man, I know that it’s completely stupid to push away any one race just for the sake of emotional protection. I find amazing things in most of the people I meet and I couldn’t possibly miss out on that.
It’s unfortunate that I constantly meet these convoluted girls who can turn a heartbreak, a distant father or their mother’s crazy ex-boyfriend into an image that stands as something to avoid. But these are all personal things. These are all things that no one single stranger would know without asking. And this is why I think this is weird. Why do girls feel that they need to tell me? They don’t know anything about me, and yet, their defense against a stranger is to tell him that everything they THINK he is, is not what they want.
I think “I’m not interested” has the same endgame without them sounding like unintelligent frost queens that think every black guy is some type of threat to their “immaculate” chastity.
Women who see love and relationships through this jaded and ambiguous lens can force feed their irreconcilable BS right into their backends. My calm demeanor is only held by my strict upbringing that taught me how to treat women. Just because I’m a man of color, it doesn’t mean a woman’s body is some sort of red flag that I need to rush at like a bull. What’s the point of Lex Luthor using Kryptonite against Clark Kent when he hasn’t even opened his shirt yet?
For anyone who reads this, just know that even the simplistic forms of “shutting someone down” can have negative response by the other person. But to avoid looking like a orney, half-wit, think about what you say and how a person is gonna react to a slight of racism. But if you don’t care, then you probably didn’t read this far anyway. In that case, good riddance.
Oh and by the way, the girl who told me that she didn’t date black guys was black also.
Blatant Generalizations and Sarcasm Brought To You By…
Posted: September 20, 2011 Filed under: Wayne State | Tags: library, Loud, obnoxious, Unbearable Leave a comment »I love how a library can become a public forum for hi-jinx and horseplay.
It’s like a Transformer. You think it’s a library, but out of nowhere it turns into a social club for teenagers who don’t want to go home after class! You hear that all so familiar “CHUU CHUU CHEE CHEA CHEE!” sound and you know it’s on!
Now you can be as loud as you want!
You know if you went home mama wouldn’t stand for this type of Tom foolery. So you hangout, treating this library as your own personal basement, minus the weed smoking and heavy petting. But it’s only a matter of time before they take one of the study rooms and turn it into the “Make out Corner”. You’ll pay a fee, you’ll get in, and then you can make out to some of your favorite R.Kelly and Lady Antebellum tracks! I love college! There’s so much freedom to be inconsiderate.
And if you’re black then you’re in luck! Because why prove that you’re above a stereotype when you can just treat every encounter like it’s movie night in the ghetto theatre! Don’t worry about being quiet. No one expects it. They just expect you to do really, really good at sports or wear the tightest leopard print leggings you can find. No weight requirements so don’t worry.
If you’re a middle eastern or Indian female…just laugh, giggle, and chase your friends throughout the facility. Get all that extra energy out, because we know some of you ladies won’t even be able to cough at the dinner table without being reprimanded. And for the dudes, enjoy those white girls! It’s not like they’re everywhere. It’s not like there’s a billion places that you can mack on a blond. Just if you’re doing it here, be careful to ignore all the enjoyable dirty looks from not only the women of your on race, but the angry jocks that think all of you are terrorists!
White girls! I didn’t forget you! Please stay for the good times and makeup tips. Whip out that Mademoiselle magazine and chatter about how many Louis Vutton products your dad is gonna buy you for your birthday! A privileged West Bloomfield upbringing has allowed you to be anything you want in this world! Including obnoxious! Fellas, watch YouTube videos with the volume up. Because we all know that seeing your homie take a whiffle bat to the balls is only funny when you can hear him scream! After that you can practice gay bashing when you see a guy walk by with skinny jeans! That’s the mature thing to do. Make everyone that doesn’t wear Hollister Shirts and Diesel Jeans feel like a piece of shit!
All jokes aside though, this is really ridiculous. I shouldn’t be able to make it a color thing. But as you can tell, everyone is doing their equal parts to make this library unbearable. Except for Asians.
So Who The F*#% Is Leslie Then?
Posted: September 1, 2011 Filed under: life, Wayne State | Tags: Crazy, Facebook, girls, library, Loud Talkers, Wayne State Leave a comment »Dear Miss Library Phone Talker,
I don’t know you very well, but I know you have no respect for others. I also know this phone call that you’re on with your boyfriend is just your way of reassuring some fairy-tale love story you conjured up over the summer. You’ve had no issues or gripes for the last couple months. You guys went up north, hit up the lake a couple of times and you even met his parents. You guys had sex. It wasn’t the best at first but as you learned each other’s bodies things spruced up and now you two are as smooth as silk.
But you’re bored so your mind wanders, leading you to his Facebook page. You have 2 hours between classes, so you think, “Why not look at his “Kick-ass Summer 2011″ album that I’m tagged in over 133 times. That should help me pass the time before I head to Psychology 101!” But to your surprising eye you discover that your boyfriend Jake added some girl named Leslie as a friend, minutes after you left his house last night. Your perplexed, but not fearful of this girl. That’s until you click her name and see her unblocked pics.
Now the comparisons start.
You see that her boobs are bigger than yours, and that her hair is longer. Her clothing fits tighter and she’s not afraid to show her stomach. You think about the new jeans you picked up from Target and the cute shirt you got from Forever 21 that you were planning to wear on your date tonight, but now those things suddenly feel inefficient.
All of Leslie’s summer day pics are her in bikinis, winking at the camera with her mouth open and pandering around a bunch of shirtless guys. Her nightlife pics place her in random kitchens or basements with her hands wrapped around top shelf vodka and rum. You don’t even drink and you can’t stand walking around the beach without shorts over your bottoms.
So you remember that your shy and slightly prudish and that partying has never been a big thing for you. You like bonfires and country music, comfortable hoodies, hairbands and volleyball. This girl is into Lil Wayne, Ke$ha, sneaking into clubs, drinking till she pukes, flashing strangers and taking care of her Pomeranian named Snooki.
Your anger and jealously rises and you start mumbling to yourself quietly, attempting to hide it behind the virginal Indian girls sitting next to you who are giggling at Chris Brown’s sexual dance moves on YouTube. But I hear you. I hear words like, “What a skank!” and “Who the hell wears things like that?” I hear you pick up and put down your phone, probably checking to see if Jake has answered your texts yet, but he hasn’t.
You’re furious so you call two of your friends and direct them to Jake’s page. They see what you see and feel the same way. Sam mentions that her birthdate makes her 18 like you, but her clothing style and obvious leisure activities makes her seem a lot older. Maybe 2o or 21.
He says, “I’d totally hook-up with her, but Jake isn’t like that. He’s in love with you.”
It’s not enough for you. You can’t get this girl out of your head and there is no way possible you can go to the second class of your freshman year, thinking about your first and only boyfriend sexing it up with some girl that can literally knock you out of the park on everything you think guys want.
You make the call.
“Hey…yeah sorry for waking you up sweetie…you sound so cute in the morning…what I’m doing? Oh just sitting in the library my class isn’t till 2…Yeah I just wanted to hear your voice…I love you…aww…hey I was on your Facebook earlier, and I saw that you added someone new…I’m pretty sure you did…I’m looking at it right now…You probably did? Probably? I had just left your fucking house Jake. You can’t remember?…So who the fuck is Leslie then? Who is she?…What?…Oh…wow…I feel like a bitch…so your cousin…and she’s gonna be at your mom’s tonight?…Can’t wait to meet her…
Thank you for stealing the last 30 minutes of my life. Now Every one will know how crazy you are. Let this be a lesson to you ladies,boredom is a killer and Facebook is the weapon. Peace!
Improv The Look!
Posted: May 9, 2011 Filed under: life, Sunshine, Wayne State | Tags: fashion, Funny, life, Michigan, Spring, Stinky, Wayne State, wife-beaters Leave a comment »So another semester begins for me here at Wayne State University. It’s a beautiful day to start classes. The birds are chirping, the sun is shinning, and the women are in skirts and flip-flops. I’m not running to find shorts and flip-flops just yet…it’s only May. Rainy, temperate weather still reigns here, so anything can happen. Instead, I’ll stick with jeans and tees, my typical look. I see other guys already rocking the wife-beaters and board shorts. Even Capri’s! (Which I neither condone or accept) Most of the guys look like they got overly excited when they saw the sun this morning and just kept on what they slept in! There was no Sunday night thirty-six hour weather check-in, no iPhone app dinging with surprise and encouragement. It was just, “Oh look there’s some sun! Well I’m already dressed for this! I’ll just lather on another layer of Axe deodorant and hit the ground running!”. There’s nothing better than sitting next to a guy that has the same fragrence taste as a 14-year-old boy just discovering that there’s two places you can stick your finger in a girl. And you can tell all this by the multitude of hairy-backs and yellow sweat stains at the rims of these tattered Hanes ”A-Shirts”. It would have been a smart decision to leave the shirt you wore in that pick-up ball game last night in the hamper! But I’m no Satorialist. No fashionista. I have a style closer to the Americana look of pearl button-ups, vintage tees, and Levi’s than anything else. Nothing fancy or special, just practical. I can understand some people crave and drool for the day they’ll be able to break free from sweaters and hoodies, but there’s no need to go outside with the cleanliness of a summertime grocery store shopping cart collector.
On a side note: I don’t even think you need a social security number to get that job. You just show up and they give you one of those reflective vests and tell you to stay clear of crazy Aunt Judy, riding dirty in the oversized Toyota Sienna.
A Typical Tuesday
Posted: January 25, 2011 Filed under: life, Wayne State | Tags: Amistad, arab girls, Bow Wow, Cold, College, Family Matters, Frederick Douglass, Funny, futon, Good Times, School, The Count, Wayne State, white girls 1 Comment »Mornings. Dark cold mornings.
My car rumbles on, alerting me that I’ve just committed to the day. It speaks to me, warming me up.
“You got this Manny! This college shit is all you! It’s too easy homie!”
I nod silently and put my car in reverse to make my way. When I hit the road I’m instantly annoyed. I’m annoyed by other drivers, the conditions of the road and the off timing traffic lights. I immediately want to turn back around and snuggle back into the comforts of my futon.
“Just stay in Manny.” It says to me…the Futon that is
“I can’t” I plea, “I need to go to class…responsibilities and such. You know?”
“I’m a bed Manny, I don’t have responsibilities.”
“Right.”
When I arrive to class I take out my ear buds out and slowly wiggle into my seat. I don’t really drink coffee so my lulled senses are swept into the flickering incandescent lights where visions of a distant summer dazzles in front of my eyes.
“Where are you?” I ask myself.
“Cali, sipping a Corona on Venice Beach, wearing some ridiculous sunglasses and smiling at every girl who walks by.”
“That’s nice.” I say
“I know.” I reply
Thoughts like these roll through my mind while the professor scribbles sentences on the board and overachievers high-five each other with glee. The class ends early so I put the buds back in and sloth my way toward the library cafe.
I arrive at the Undergraduate library in the early hours of the morning. Snack vendors and local hobos are the only ones that graze the landscape during this time. I buy my hot chocolate milk and danish and plop down in a rolling plastic chair. 30 or so minutes pass and I begin to observe my surroundings. The cafe fills with chatty groups of white girls doll’d up in their Tuesday best. Some are wearing business casual suit pants with black flats, while other females slum it up with comfortable sweats and Nike running shoes. It all makes me smile. Later, I catch a slew of Arab girls with colorful head scarves, shuffling together in the store to buy their favorite snacks and beverages. The hustle and bustle of the early day is the epitome of diversity at Wayne State.
A couple of hours pass and I move from my seat in the library cafe to a hall where my Mass Communications class is being taught. I can never concentrate in this class. And this is partly because my teacher sounds like The Count from Sesame Street. I laugh a lot more during class than I should, but I try to pay attention. Luckily, I’m surrounded by 75 other students who don’t get my joke, so I mooooove on with masses trying to ignore the comedies that surround me. But it becomes difficult to ignore the mural of naked African slaves all over the wall. The mural looks like the mutiny scene from Amistad if painted it like the opening credits of Good Times! Was it the artists intention? I don’t know, but I all I want to say is “Dynomite!” every time. I also tried to ignore a very nice painting of an African family with a dad who looks like Carl Weathers, a mom who looks like Harriette Winslow from Family Matters, and a son who looks like lil Bow Wow when he was still “lil”. It was really hard ignoring these so I could listen to The Count speak. I almost found myself feeling bad and a bit unappreciative of my culture, but then I remembered I was the only one who could hear my own thoughts.
I later find out that the hall where my class is held is actually called The African-American Room. This doesn’t explain my teacher’s Transylvanian accent, but it does explain the murals and the very angry painting of Frederick Douglass that looms over my head.
And it’s weird because I’ve never had a problem with Freddy, but every time my mind wanders I feel him judging me as he stares at the picture of Olivia Wilde that sits as the background on my Macbook. I look up at him solemnly and shrug, apologizing for squandering my education and fraternizing with the “enemy”.
Class ends and I’m freed into the living world. My ear buds stay in all the way until I get to the car and then the CD player takes on the responsibility of easing me back into my musical equilibrium.
A typical Tuesday.
