The Post Game Show

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Sunday Morning Randomness

As I hem and haw about doing my usual weekend cleaning before the Sixers-Pistons game tonight, I figured that I would exercise my fiyah procrastination skills by blogging about random thoughts that are going through my mind as of late.

You ever wonder what gives any kind of person any sense of entitlement? You know, like their Number Two smells like roses and yours is just plain ol' nasty dirty, common-folk Number Two? To me, it's annoying and eventually amusing that people still have that "I'll take my ball and go home" mentality when it comes to life and everything in it. As much garbage as I've dealt with in my life, and as much as I feel overwhelmed by it, I can honestly say I'm not lording anything over people in my life like some folks like to do. Believe me, I don't need a dramatic exit as I said in the 6 quirks meme, I will just eventually bounce you out of my life. In short? Folks need to grow the hell up and realize that the world will continue to spin on its axis whether they're in someone's life or not, or as old folks say "one monkey don't stop no show."

February 8th doesn't seem like a long time in hindsight, but for me, it's an eternity. I think my early success in the hookup game this year has kinda sorta spoiled me, especially since I went almost two years on two separate occasions without *ahem* going there. Is it too much ask to have casual encounters without drama and b.s.? I guess not.

About Customer Cutie? My relentless clowning of R. Kelly finally caught up with me. Why, you ask faithful readers? The girl is 16! Needless to say I thank God I didn't try to hit on her, sheesh.

Speaking of "Customer" and R. Kelly, why is he jumping on everybody's song and allegedly calling himself "The Remix Killer?" Damn right you killing songs that everybody liked before your Austin Powers: Goldmember wannabe ass hopped on the joint! Ugh. And what's this about him copping a plea with NO jail time? Unbelievable.

The County Parks & Rec will have an adult kickball league starting up in June. Y'all know my black ass is signing up, right? You know that, right? Man, since I saw that come into my inbox at the office, I've had flashbacks of kicking home runs, dodging the ball in a run down between second and third base, throwing the ball at the base to force a runner out. This will be good exercise and may even make another friend or two, who knows?

I've had my current car for eight months now and only one major problem: front tires. When I thought my brakes were on their last legs (which they were), I was able to get new ones put on for cheap and my '92 Bonneville keeps on rollin' rollin' rollin'...however, my front tires seem to be dying and once again, procrastination's getting the better of me on that tip. Having a car used to be fun once upon a time, now oil changes, brakes, tires, GAS just makes it very tedious to maintain the doggone thing. I hope my next stop has a decent public transportation system.

After a winter of afros and beards, I've found a black barbershop five minutes from the crib and I can't tell you how good it feels to have a hair cut and a hairless face. My head hasn't been this close to bald in quite some time, but it's an easy look to maintain, along with the clear face, which shows off the decent features in my face. Couldn't see it before for the other stuff I was carrying around on my face.

Lastly, I need the winning Powerball ticket. That is all.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Tagged by JB

A new reader of The Post Game Show, JB decided to hit me with a meme to kinda mix things up around here, and after getting my body post out of the way, I'm ready to tackle this here assignment.

Here are the rules:

1. Link the person who tagged you…

2. Mention the rules in your blog…

3. Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours

4. Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them

5. Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.

1. I can pop my right knee at will. Four summers ago while playing pick-up ball in New Castle, DE, I went up for a shot and apparently every part of my body made the trip upward except my right knee. The pain was indescribable and I gimped around for a few weeks, and then the pain ceased. However, my right knee would pop loudly, to the point where people thought I had gas problems, but I had to pull up my sweatpants' leg and show them that my knee is a lil worse for ware.

2. Ambidextrous is my middle name. Well, James is officially, but I can do pretty much anything with my right hand (strong hand) and my left hand. Shoot a basketball, cut my food, drive a car, you name it, I can do it with both hands. I always had a secret jealously of left-handed people because it seems like everybody's a righty, you know? So I taught myself to do a bunch of things left handed, and now I can do them without thinking "hey, I just used my left to make that shot."

3. I love cartoons, but am too cheap to pay for DirecTV so I can watch Boomerang. Boomerang is Cartoon Network's old school channel with all of my favorites from way back in the day, when we used to watch USA Cartoon Express before AND after school. That was the task, get homework done so I could catch Hanna Barbera toons until the Sixers played on WPHL17 or my bedtime, whichever came first. Those were the days.

4. I'm good at remixing current hits by giving them different lyrics and subjects, therefore satisfying my ignorance quotient daily. From greens to being so full, your boy is a goofball of epic proportions. I might have another one in the works, so stay tuned.

5. I really don't mind looking at myself in the mirror. For the most part. While I know that my size nor skin tone makes me the most desirable guy to women, I can find some things physically that I'm happy with. I guess when I feel my lowest and start picking myself apart is when I'm lonesome and feeling like I'll never catch a break in the dating department. But most of the time, I'm o.k. with what I see, and the improvements I need to make are minute ones.

6. I guess I would end this on a somewhat unhappy note, but chances are if we haven't talked in two or three weeks, I really don't want to talk to you. Right now, I can think of at least two folks who I need to cut off (don't worry, it's none of you guys), but instead of drama, I just let them slowly fade out of my life. I eventually delete from buddy lists, friends lists and the like, and I really don't feel I owe anyone an explanation why. Apparently on another forum I frequent, that's grounds for disrespect, but whatever. If I don't want to be bothered with you, I just don't. End of story.

I'm not going to tag anybody because I know my circle is still incestuous to the point where I've seen this a few times, LOL, but anybody that wants to do it can give it a whirl.

Monday, April 21, 2008

Shape Shifters

*Blogger's Note* Forgive me for the overkill in my postings about the opposite sex, I promise this will be the last one for a while, but this post is full of good intentions and with oh so scrumptious inspiration.

Shapes and sizes are amazing on certain women. Like I expressed in my crush post, petite women are the ones that catch my eye...I guess it's something about being a big man that wants to kinda sorta be that live action teddy bear that women always swear they want and that a woman that small could feel safe and secure and warm chillin' with me. There's also the athletic woman, the track star, the gymnast, the volleyball player and the cheerleader. Those type of ladies can really give a brother a *ahem* workout. Then, there's the women with body. Thick, pleasingly plump, big and beautiful, y'all get the picture.

Why am I politicking on the various shapes in sizes that women come in? Hell if I know. Oh wait, yes I do. The recently released tastefully nude pictures of that plus-sized sex goddess of soul, Jill Scott and the wonderfully put together Gabrielle Union for the new issue of Allure Magazine got me to thinking about how wonderful it is that not every woman looks the same. Along with a recently viewed Vlog of a particularly thick and fabulous woman, it hit me: Hi, my name is Chris and I love women from size 0 to size 20-something.

This might kinda sorta be confusing in the quest to figure out what it is that I am indeed looking for in a woman, at least from a physical standpoint, but it also could be a plus because of being open to women of all shapes and sizes, I won't miss the one with a sweetheart of a personality who would truly adore a brother and be down for me 210%.

For those who are fairly new to reading my blog (welcome to you all!), I actually posted a youtube vid back in late December of a poet named Tamara Blue who performed a piece called "Thick Chicks" on Def Poetry Jam, and it struck a chord with me because for all of my own personal body issues, the very gender who I seek affection and passion from are pretty much getting their stuff together and loving who they are, small or big. And as I've told anybody that will listen, being a big man is tough. I've been a husky cat since the age of 9 and some 17 years later, I still am fearful of being seen in public because of being 5 feet, 10 inches tall and tipping the scales at -- as of Sunday night -- 318 pounds.

However, while I would like to become healthier and eventually have some muscle tone to my body, the more and more I think about it, the more and more I understand that weighing more than 160 pounds isn't necessarily anything to be ashamed of. We can't all be the same size, have the same looks or even have the same personalities. I guess the important thing is seeing what you have and using it to your advantage, or in my case, thriving in spite of it. Shucks, I'd be well on my way to being the 40 year old virgin if some women didn't like it.

I really don't know if there's a point to this post, which is rare for me, considering I ALWAYS have to make sense, lol, but I feel better posting about my affinity for women of all shapes and sizes and expressing the hope that I too can be like the poetress from the YouTube I posted in December; "Fuck it....just love it."

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Six Months Later....

Six months ago today, in the early hours of the morning, I packed up my car and drove from one world into another; a world of independence, self-sufficiency, and arguably, uncertainty. I didn't know if I would be able to survive on my own, seeing as I was either in college or at home for all of my life. Now I can say that I can make it work without anyone's help, and I've learned more about my resolve, my ability to bounce back and it's made me stronger as I've been able to take some marginal shots and still stand tall. I call them marginal shots because I'm fully aware that life can get tougher, and considering my field, it probably will. But I think my unorthodox faith in things getting better before they get worse has carried me. I'm not a religious person (HATE church), but I am spiritual, and even though my fear of death leaves me struggling for sleep some nights, I sort of have this weird belief that God is watching me and everything is alright.

I've enjoyed the fact that I live alone, even though it's been rough with no cable and no company. I've had one visitor (no two -- this annoying chick that didn't stay long, but I digress) and I still have a hard time making friends here even though this one chick...we'll call her H...has tried to bring me out of my shell.

Wanna know what's funny about H? We both are from Wilmington, Delaware and attended Delaware State University, but we did NOT know of each other until a chance conversation on BlackPlanet one day. Since then we've hung out a couple of times, I ate at her house Christmas Day and visited her after she had surgery, but when she suggests real robust things like going to a tiki bar opening, I immediately withdraw. Looks like I'm not completely remodeled yet, LOL.

I've finally gotten used to WPGC and WKYS as stations of choice. I love the radio personalities here, especially Big Tigger of course and Michel Wright on WPGC. From 10 to 6 when I'm near a radio, that's what's I'm listening to. I'll probably wax poetic in another music post in the near future about the new stuff.

Of course, aside from three hook-up situations, the dating scene is still wack, but I guess that'll be an issue wherever I go.

Overall, six months on my own hasn't been bad, and hopefully wherever my next stop is whenever that time comes I can continue to survive and thrive as an independent, self-sufficient, taking-care-of-business man. It's been an eye-opening experience to say the least.

Saturday, April 12, 2008

I've got a crush on you

Monday is usually a day reserved for the blues, the first day of the week, a long and hard fall back to the reality of working and paying bills after a glorious weekend of doing absolutely nothing or having a blast doing everything.

For me, Mondays mean something to look forward to. After a long (or not) day of work, I usually walk into a certain restaurant on Route 235, shortly after the Big Four at Four on Live in the den with Big Tigger on WPGC. With my taste buds and stomach focused on my typical Monday dinner, there's a barrier I have to get over. But it's one I don't mind staring down.

This barrier in particular might be 5'2 on a good day, petite to the point of size zeroness, but still working with something up top and down bottom, deep dark brown eyes, coffee brown skin, her black hair always in curls, and her smile, not something she shows all the time but when she does, it's a girlish version of the eighth wonder of the world; so cute, so happy-go-lucky, so...damn. She asks for my order, She gives, I grab, and that's our interaction.

Oh, how I wish there was more. You see, this waitress, as I've so eloquently described her to y'all, is fine. DAMN fine. However, as is the case with most pretty women -- scratch that -- ALL women I see in person, I freeze up. Like my throat literally closes up, my heart rate increases, I'm looking around everywhere but where my focus needs to be; on said woman.

It's all another cruel case of me being proficient at using my fingers to do my talking but becoming virtually helpless at expressing anything with the mouth and voice God gave me. Talk about stunting your own growth.

At 26, I really shouldn't be this socially retarded, but that's something I take the blame for. Instead of running and hiding behind a computer screen, I should've taken my chances, gotten hurt and moved on from it like normal guys do. Instead I'm missing an opportunity to at least practice approaching women in person by being afraid of what this girl might say.

Well, at least she's earned a nickname. Because of her profession and because it's one of my favorite songs right now, she shall now be known as Customer Cutie. After all, I am her customer every Monday, but would I love to switch roles and serve her? You know it.

Now if only I could ask her how her day is going.

Sunday, April 06, 2008


As I drove my mom back to her car Monday afternoon (I went home to say goodbye to the mother of one of my best friends) we started talking about Dr. King, especially since this past Friday was the 40th anniversary of his assassination on the balcony of the Lorraine Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee. She then told me about the riots that gripped Wilmington, Delaware in the days following Dr. King's murder, and how the National Guard came in to control the city. For nine months from (April of '68 to January of 1969), these soldiers in training occupied the city, long after the riots ended. My mom said "oh yeah, we had a curfew and all. Couldn't go outside after 6 p.m., or the guards would come with their guns or ride by on jeeps telling you to go back in the house."

The Guard's full-term pregnancy in Wilmington to this day remains the longest peacetime (by that, I assume they mean non-war, because from all accounts, there wasn't a damn thing peaceful about that time) occupation of an American city in this country. Since Monday when I spoke to my mom and her best friend about it, I've tried my hardest to imagine what it would be like as a teenager as my mom was back then, not being allowed to go to dances, the lil after-school hangout spots, hell, no football or basketball games! I would have been a hot mess at 13 back then.

Then again, that's why I admire our predecessors in so many ways. Although being holed up in the crib was NOT their choice, they were able to abide by the b.s. conditions without any further damage being done. We definitely take for granted the freedoms we have now because of how our parents/grandparents/great-grandparents and so on suffered and hustled in hellacious conditions. It makes you think about how our living conditions would be if they just said "screw it, it's not worth it." Instead, they buckled down, manned (and woman'd) up and said "this isn't right, and we won't stop until it is." Because of them, we can come and go as we please with little resistance (let's be real it's still there, but not many of us are dying now from said resistance) and live our lives the way we see fit.

While we still have a ways to go to fulfill the hopes and dreams of prior generations, I don't believe we're in dire straits like some seem to think. Hell, Barack Obama is one state away from being the Democratic NOMINEE. Not a contender, not a vice president, not a cabinet member, THE NOMINEE. Barack Obama is a product of hopes, a product of dreams, a product of a desire for change. We ALL are. And if the younger generation can somehow galvanize itself to have that "keep the pressure on" mentality our ancestors did, then it won't be long before Dr. King's dream of peace and equality is a given.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

When is enough really enough?

When woman X and I got together one January afternoon, I thought I had at least secured a friend with benefits, something I hated on for the longest time but was ready to get down with in this particular case. A divorced woman with teenage kids who swore she would want another go round, and that worked for me. However, I soon found out with her that age truly is just a number (she said she was 38, but I can't tell anymore). Between the mind games, the false promises and the reverse psychology, tonight I had my fill.

"It's like you're looking for a reason to get rid of me," I said after an argument about her totally ignoring me sometimes and getting my hopes up other times.

"Think what you want to think," was her acid response.

At that point, something clicked. You can't make somebody want you. Especially if you had to jump through hoops of fire to get them to see you in the first place. I figured out one thing about casual hook-ups tonight; it should be left where it is, in that moment in time, that instance where you got what you needed for that moment. And that it takes a certain mindset to leave it where it is. I have to think if I even want that mindset, much less develop it for the sake of getting the goodies.

I've deleted all her phone numbers from my house phone (no cell of course), her contact information on yahoo, and I'm sitting here breathing deeply, convincing myself that I made the right decision in letting her know that she was indeed a waste of my time despite that off-the-chain afternoon we had together in this bed behind me.

Whether my pursuit of all things casual and quick is right or wrong is open for debate, what isn't open for debate is the fact that I do know what I will and will not accept from this point forward. Be real or be gone, that's the new slogan.

As my younger sister used to say "I don't play games; I quit school because of recess." And I start to see the playground overcrowding now. Let me get outta here.