I think the thing you said was true, I'm gonna' die alone and sad

I might be a little biased here, but I think this might be the greatest story ever told:

Line by line we all scrape by

My friend even went so far as to draw up a contract for me to sign before she trains me to become a sassy black woman.  The terms and conditions are covered in the waiver:

I __________ __________fully understand and acknowledge that risks and dangers exist in my participation in the Sassy Black Woman In Training (SBWIT) program. My participation in such activities may result in injury or illness including but not limited to bodily injury including broken bones, extreme bitchiness, bone fractures, inability to keep opinions to yourself, partial or total paralysis, spontaneous dancing, ghetto fights, eye injury, uncontrollable lip smacking, blindness, broken press-on nails, improper speech, projectile vomiting, explosive diarrhea, ripped out hair weave, heat stroke, neck jerkiness, death or other ailments that could cause serious disability.

These risks and dangers may be caused by negligence of SBWIT trainers or participants, and forces of nature (acts of God). I hereby assume all risks and dangers and all responsibility for losses, damages or injury. I voluntarily agree to release, waive, discharge, hold harmless, defend and indemnify the SBWIT program from any and all claims, actions or losses for bodily injury, property damage, and wrongful death which might arise.

There are 3 SBWIT packages from which you can choose. The beginners package (which is kinda lame - like a kiddie ride), the intermediate package (which provides several "behind the scenes" moments in the world of SBW)...or you can jump right into the hardcore SBW-VIP package. Due to the intense nature of the hardcore program, details will be provided upon registration.

And I'm back in black

A few weeks ago a friend of mine from Vegas came to visit.  After she went back home she sent me a Facebook message and signed off saying, "Stay black."

Which all lead to the following exchange:

Me:  Stay black?  I think I will.  Amazing.

Her:  Being black can also be a state of mind.

Me:  That's why when I leave a room I often say, "I'll be black."

Her:  Ha!  I bet you do.  I think you should start referring to yourself as a black man and see how concerned your family gets.

Me:  I might need some training.  I might have to axe you some questions about how to be a black man.

Her:  Axe away!  Actually, I will train you to be a loud and ghetto black woman.  They really don't put up with people's shit.  Plus, it would be more fun.  You might have to get a hair weave.

Me:  I'd love to be a loud, obnoxious black woman.  I'll start by yelling at the screen in movie theaters.  You can teach me more later.

Her:  That's a great start!  Also, remember to take offense to everything someone says to you.

Me:  I'm offended that you thought you had to tell me to be offended.

Her:  Bitch!  Calm yo black ass down!

Me:  That is absolutely the first time anyone has told me that.  Awesome!  I feel darker already.


It warrants mentioning that she just so happens to be black.  If you can't mock stereotypes, then what's the point?

More on this later.

Don't listen to a word I say

Last week one of my friends had a birthday party. I know her entire family, but don't see them often. When one of her sisters and her family arrived, I asked her eight year old boy if he remembered me. He said he didn't.

Later, while I was sitting on the couch talking to another friend, the eight year old came up to me and said, "I do remember you."

I said, "You do, that surprises me," as he walked away.

The guy I was sitting next to asked, "Why does that surprise you?"

I answered, "I thought I had him drugged better than that."


 Later, that kid's one year old sister came up to me and wanted me to hold her. I carried her around for a while and someone made a comment that I seemed to be really good with kids.

"What, this? Nah. I'm just getting my reps in so in 17 years when she's legal I'll be first in line to date her."


 In other words, don't ever invite me to a party.

That's the way it should be

Things I did last weekend to try and get over being "subdued."

Hiked to a waterfall. No, I didn't propose to anyone there. This time.

Drove to Bear Lake and spent some time on the beach, followed by a raspberry shake before heading back home.

Went on a very hot, very dusty hike to Lake Blanche. Might have done some damage to my knee along the way, but it was still worth it.

Went and looked at dinosaur bones. Didn't see my own there, so I guess I'm doing alright after all.

And of course, I self-medicated with candy. Lots and lots of candy.

No, you can't have any.

Life ain't pretty for a dog-faced boy

A friend from Vegas came up to visit me this weekend. In part so she could escape the heat, and in part to try and cheer me up about things not working out with The Model. We went to breakfast the first morning she was here, and had the following conversation:


Her: I feel like you're a lot more subdued than when you lived in Vegas.

Me: Really? Why do you say that?

Her: I don't know. I just feel like you're an old dog and I'm this annoying little puppy that you just have to kind of tolerate, but at some point you're going to snap and bite me.

Me: Ha ha. Well, if it helps you feel better, I'm in a much better mood than I would be if you hadn't come to visit. Also, I promise I won't bite you.


So there you have it. My blog sucks because I'm a subdued old dog.