keeping up with jones

pictures placed in blog are random.
shot out to DC with the song:


dear christmas:

you and i go back to the cowboys of moo mesa & a little before that.
remember that year i asked for a g.i. joe tent and my god sister asked for a barbie bike and she fxcked around and got the barbie tent and i got a bmx dirt bike.

i was 7 then & hurt.
that's the last time i really fxcked with you!

well, i'm grown now & slightly muslim so i can't really get down with you like that
but i make sure that folks are still happy.

but christmas - i went to sleep with some bullshxt on my brain and the taste of doritos on my touch. cooler ranch, of course. i dare not try one of those new flavors they're experimenting with. i don't know why, it's just not my thing. i been fxcking with cooler ranch since clarissa explained it all - since before doug was rocking out to i-i-i like killer tofu!

so i'm making sure everybody smiles today.
and keeping the people smiling.

but for real for real, christmas - fxck you.

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now i'm watching the cleveland/lakers game thinking about the time kobe bryant butt raped that woman - apologized & life was good again. and it probably is very true that tiger woods would be fxcking a white man before he'd be seen with a black woman. who knows.
let's just be random.

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waiting for next week:

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i recently learned to never ask the girl whose life was fucked up before you lost contact with her how she is doing and what's new these days. she answers.

she tells you about her whole family dying within months of each other, and her having to drop out of school to support her mother's cat and cocaine habit. she goes on to tell you how she no longer trusts men because of some dog she fxcked repeatedly, and she ends with "and how you been?"
and i opt out of responding to the message because i've been GREAT - but i don't want my success to rain on her bullshxt.

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reminder to those looking to KEEP UP WITH JONES in 2010:
get your fxcking passports.
we have forecasts to change and lives to get outta the way.
i'm tired of hearing you say "it's a small world."
the world isn't small. THIS COUNTRY is small.
your back yard does not serve as a representative.

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so dear christmas:
although you and i no longer fxck around - let's plan a date sometime in the future (maybe 2022) and do it BIG!
cool?

whoever can find out who this girl is, hunt her down and make her eat pork, will win a macbook pro!


oh...and a big fxck you to mrfabulosity for lying saying he was a member of my great fraternity!
that is all.

if i were to write a book about this bullshxt year (2009) - there would only be three chapters.
three long ass chapters.

chapter 1: "suicide & job loss":
anybody remember the lupoe family in california?
ol' buddy lost his job, went home, took the family out, then took himself out.
after i got over the shock of it being a black man, i had to look at the economy and ask "what the fxck is going on?" i knew RIGHT THEN that 2009 was finna(fixing to) be some bullshxt.


chapter 2: "i ain't goin' to no mo' funerals. fxck that!":
didn't everybody die in 2009? i mean, seriously, who's left?
all my life i been a firm believer in the negro myth: death happens in threes.
but it seems some mystic force took the jim jones (koolaid man) approach & killed EVERYBODY.
funeral after funeral - 4am phone call after 4am phone call.
i ain't going to another one.
if you die this week - they better wait til next saturday to bury you behind - or i will be missing!
and we all know a funeral ain't a funeral til i come through!

(above photo is of a dead man in a funeral home. his family chose to prop his body up in his car. read newspaper caption. #dead #fail #ignorant)

chapter 3: "p.a.n. season":
most of you already know what a p.a.n. is. if you don't, let me refer you to t.i.'s song with that namesake.
eff it - it means punk axx n***a.
my homegirl currently dates one of these guys. but he managed to slip through the cracks a few months back to get her.
caught her in a moment of weakness & she went for it.
i mean, don't get it effed up - she's a retired whore - so it's no trophy on his shelf - but he's still lucky.

what makes him a p.a.n. you ask?

well (and it's been proven) he's the kind of guy that will let other dudes blatantly disrespect his woman.
and he sat there - while the dude stared at him, waiting for him to react. and there wasn't even the threat of violence.
wow!
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okay...maybe i wouldn't make p.a.n. a chapter in the book
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picture of a punk axx n***a:



if you know some p.a.n.'s, please let me know in the comment section who they are.

peace.

being that time has become just as valuable to me as benjamin franklin has (and sometimes george)
what i do not have time for is early morning phone calls about a dude's fiancee's facebook chat messages to me.

i mean -
well, shxt, let me start at the beginning:
i saw a friend request from a girl i used to get at when we were 12 & 13 years old.
and like all old friends who once upon a time exchanged saliva (and every once in a while i'd get my fingers lost beneath her skirt) we immediately began discussing the things we used to do.
i mean - seriously - there's no way in hell we'd find ourselves in that situation nowadays because aside from the two of us being in our own relationships - i've long ago raised the standards of where my fingers go & her current job and quality of life IS NOT the business.

blah blah blah & so forth
and the day passes and life happens

and it's now 7:12am & my phone is ringing and i'm lightweight pissed because i had just closed my eyes no more than 45 minutes prior.

him: how you know my girl?

me: who is this?

him: this is shawn. how you know my girl?

me: who is your girl?

him: keisha.

me: keisha who? i know plenty of them.

him: keisha smith.

me: i used to finger her back in the day.

him: if i ever see you in the street, i'm gonna whoop your ass. you talking to her on this little facebook shit, i see. you ain't her friend no more on here. i'm ending that.

me: (feeling like cam'ron) yeah, i been with your wife. but do me a favor. don't call here again in your life.

and then i hung up the phone and got the rest of my sleep.
i checked facebook hours after waking up and i see that she and i really aren't friends anymore.

but really? how fxcking insecure do you need to be?
and why you reading her messages?
get over that "every other man is better than me" complex.
asking your girl what the last dude has that you don't.

"bigger dick, i don't know" - ghostface killah.

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okay okay okay folks.
check.

i'm currently seeking the following:

excellent writers
bakers
creative minds
hustlers
marketing experts (and all around PR folks)
web designers
photographers
fashion heads
filmmakers

i'm doing a lot of things folks starting yesterday.
if you want to get in on it - get in now on the ground floor where the struggles and hard work exist.

without struggle there is no progress.
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every once in a while i'll be alone - awake - thinking
and i'll so my reflecting. thinking about all the crazy, unexpected/expected, uncalled for, necessary shxt that's happened to me since i last reflected (usually a week time span)
and i'll try to figure out the source of my happiness.

is it because the kid is 5 & damn near perfect?
is it because i have more friends than the average joe?
is it because i can hope a plane in a few hours - destination unknown - and be perfectly fine once i get where ever we land?
is it because i have the hottest chick in the game loving my brain?

i don't know.

but what i do know is this:
i love being happy. and i can not imagine giving anyone or anything else the power to take that away from me.

peace.

my frat brother calls his girlfriend 'pedro' because he says her sex drive is lower than a mexican's english test scores.
although a bigoted statement, i laughed and kept laughing.

and the dulcolax JUST took effect and i had to fxck around and jump out the bed and hit the toilet something serious!
thank god it's "gentle yet effective."
2lbs. lost already.



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friday night - after the gym & a little bit after the snow began i hit the fly lounge in dupont to make a quick appearance at what may have been one of the biggest social gatherings of the year - depending on who you are and what entertains you.
and casual, i was.
i rocked the skinny levi's with my peace belt, a button down and a bow tie for effect.
even dawned the american eagle cardigan.

place of enjoyment: The Fly Lounge

ran into elizabethany (http://loveelizabethany.blogspot.com/) in there and the real world cast.
this has been my week of pseudo-celebrity shit.
first the housewives of dc & now real world.
what you want from me god?

check my swag. wish you could. i looked good.
(damn...i really just used 'swag' in my blog. fuck it.)

and then the cameras came out:











and the few i took at home before i headed out:





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i haven't made it over to the window yet to see if the snow's melted - but i will eventually.
and it's sunday.

random snow picture by someone on twitter:


i woke up pissed at BET because they're the only network showing 'polly'
and i love this movie - but i hate BET & for the past 8.5 years i've been doing everything in my power to not watch the network for more than 4 minutes per year.
but these fxckers got me tuned in for 2 hours.
damn damn damn.

and brittany murphy died.
2009 is killing more folks than the george bush it seems.
come on 2010 (unless that's when i die).

and shxt - i just heard that rose from 227 died (alaina reed) on the 17th.

seems like everybody that died - with the exception of michael jackson - was christian.
maybe this is that rapture the people who knocked on my door at 6am was talking about.
maybe i, too, need to witness jehova.

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still on this damn toilet.
let me see if i can snap a photo...
(keep in mind i woke up at 2 and my face isn't washed not teeth brushed):



BAM!
there you go.

see folks. i blog about real SHxT. literally, i suppose.
no need to lie to you guys.

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and i woke up to this sitting on my computer 'cause it automatically signed on Yahoo Instant Messenger - and brought me the news:

Brandon Jennings, a player from the Bucks was fined $7,500 for tweeting during a game.
$7,500?
do you know how many packs of oodles of noodles i can buy with that!?

but what made me made what that he wasn't fined MORE.
here's the tweet:



" '500' means WHERE doing good"
and i don't stereotype all athletes as being dummies...just those who prove it to me.

almost like jay-z said in d.o.a.: if you're intelligent, this is how you prove it to me.

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before i wipe and depart this comfortable throne,
allow me to wish you all a great sunday.
all the shit that's been upsetting you this past week & all the bullshxt you put up with from the ignorant needs to be released.
stop holding on to it and move forward.
it's hard to run with chains around your ankles or with no feet at all.
ask toby.

drink some prune juice (or dulcolax in my case) & let that shxt go.