Freestyle Friday

This is something I've wanted to do for a while now. Join in and let's have some fun.

Ughh, Ughh, one, two, you are in tune to the Rich House Groove. We gone do this thing called Freestyle Friday, you supply the rhymes, cause the hook is intact, create your own beat and we’ll put it down on tracks.

Ready, Let’s go.

It’s time to spit game I got to show and prove
that I can be the best me you’ve ever seen
can’t fake it no more cause I’m about to scream
this job ain’t Levi’s
it’s Buddy Lee’s
I thought kings ruled the land
not be subject to the man
The time has arrived and “That Day” is now
strap up them boots
I'm running fast as I can

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.

Too many opportunities to do what's right
To many opportunities to keep game tight
Sub prime mortgages hookin' me in
Lack of me payin' makin' yo wallet thin.
Wall Street run for cover wonder what's goin' on
Stock market plummetin' like a fat girls thong
Take advantage of the poor folk tryna get 'em stuck
Opps look and turn around and see whose really f***ed

Let the rhythm run...

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.

[Dave J]

Hour after hour
been workin hard all week,
Friday rolls around
and it's time to speak.

Don't matter what I say,
because regardless ya'll feel it,
The rhythm and the sway,
you can't borrow, beg, or steal it.

The weekend now begins,
spending time with friends,
it don't ever-
get better-
than this-

good vibes I send.

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.

[Ced, the reggaeton mc]

Spiritual man
The jacked-up game
You're playin' in
Your wages made
Are wages gave
To the hands
Of Tax'a Man
You grind ya teeth
You stomp the street
In search of more to gain
But Tax'a Man
Him come again
And crush ya down
To stain
Me nah can talk
Me throw a fist
Me will survive
Him terrorist
Tax'a man
Come take'a THIS!

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.


Let me jump in here
and rep for the ladies
No need to question
No if's, and's, or maybe's
Sexy, smart, and head strong
If you can't keep up
then just move along
Got no time for the bull
or the sh*t that follows
Trying to get this paper
so I can pop bottles
I handle my biz
You can't bring me down
Those who try
come out lookin like a clown
Don't talk behind my back
and then smile in my face
Just fall in line
and keep up with the pace
Cause you never know
when we'll leave this place...

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.


Sister riding deep
tryin to make that keep
got a daily grind
pays the bills on time
but doesn't fill my need
perpetrators take heed
my craft
my dreams
So Miz gotta rise
take my chances
hit my stride
Yeah rolling solo
but not for long
soon everybody be singing Miz's song

[Cap -- Hype WO-man]

OOOOP OOOOOOOP! Throw ya hands in the air, wavin' like we just don't care!

scared money don’t make none
Your pockets’ll be thin till you create some.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
This life’ll be over
You’re starin’ at the grave.

scared money don’t make none
Either live your dreams or get down with a team.
Keep walkin’ around
in a daze
this time'll be up
missed out on getting paid.

Thanks to everybody who played along. This was a lot of fun. If you didn't notice, I reworked it a bit in the studio, so this is the radio edit. I'm already coming up with a new hook for next time, get your rhymes ready.


Why Michael Vick can kiss his goodbye

Plain and simple, some people, usually of the lighter persuasion, love their dogs more than other humans.

Case in point

Dog gets $12 MILLION in Helmsleys will

In case you don't feel like reading, heres the short take:

Dog (named Trouble) $12 million

Brother - unstated millions

Grand kids (only 2 of the four) - $5 million each, on the condition they visit their late fathers grave - but still less than the dog.

Chaffeur - $100 thousand

Either way, none of the money she left is nothing to sneeze at, but I can't believe she left the dog more money than the people in her life. SMH. Which leaves me to one conclusion -- Michael Vick, say your prayers.


There you go trying me again.
Didn’t you know I was over you?
Oh, I forgot.
This is your modus.
You leave me alone for a while and when I least expect it you show up again.
I should have known it was about that time.
Life was starting to look up and here you come
We’ve been doing this dance for so long now you think I’d have my inner clock set for your arrival.
You always disguise yourself differently but you are selling the same thing
You even make it look appealing, I have to give you that much
Still, I listen to what you have to offer because that dangling carrot sure looks appetizing

All that could be mine!
You’re joking right?
Now that I think about it this is no different than the last time
Is it?
Man, I ain’t falling for that
What do I look like to you, some kind of sucker


The Message

This is a public service announcement and it's going out to all the heads in blogland (pass the word to those in desperate need). If you find profanity offensive, don't click play. If you want a good laugh and a good message as well, then by all means, push the button.

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Monday Memories Take 2

Not too long ago, I did a post called Soundtrack Of My Life. In that particular feature I outlined all the wonderful music that I have enjoyed over the years. However, I failed to mention my intense love for Jazz. Being from the rather large town (some call it a city) of Jacksonville, FL where R&B and Rap ruled the airwaves I didn't get turned onto jazz until I made the acquaintance of some older brothers at the University of Florida during my undergraduate years. Prior to meeting those guys (Mike Kemp, Trey Davis, and Sid Smith) I looked at jazz as being elevator music. That theory soon got kicked out the door when I heard the Tutu album by Miles Davis.

Let me tell you, that album knocked me off my feet. By jazz head standards it was probably one of his more contemporary jazz offerings but it was still quintessential Miles, if you ask me. The album never fails to take me on a journey. The musical offerings were so good I not only wore out the original cassette that I purchased, but I have since worn out the CD as well. It's a good thing MP3's are around because having that as part of a digital library means that I will forever be able to enjoy the experience.

But Miles Davis was just the beginning. From there I consumed jazz artists like a man who had been castaway and finally allowed to feast for the first time in years. I will say that my taste is geared more toward contemporary artists, but I have sampled the greats as well. Some of it is cool, but some of it is just too deep for me at times. Like the Marsalis family. I still have yet to find any album put out by either son (Branford or Winston) or their father Ellis) that moves me. I respect them for being pioneers in the game, but I still have a hard time rolling with them.

Since my first introduction to the musical genre I have come to love quite a few artists. I have listed some of them below that you may want to check out, if you haven't already. Also feel free to recommend some artists to me. You can never have too much good music.

Some of the artists I've come to love over the years include, but are not limited to.

Miles Davis, Earl Klugh, David Sanborn, Kim Waters, Grover Washington Jr., Everett Harp, Najee, Kenny G (Duotones era), Larry Carleton, Stanley Clark, Ronnie Jordon, Diane Reeves, Bobby McFerrin, Bob James, Hiroshima, Fattburger, Pieces of a Dream, Thelonius Monk, Wes Montgomery, George Howard, Gerald Albright, Pat Metheny, Roy Ayers, Lonnie Liston Smith, Kenny Baron, John Coltrane, Michael Franks, The Crusaders, Joe Sample, Four Play, Stanley Jordon, Hugh Masekala, Ramsey Lewis, Urban Knights, Marcus Miller, J. Spencer, The Rippingtons, Spyro Gyro, Al Jarreau, Diane Schuur, Candy Dulfer, Down to the Bone, George Benson, N'Dea Davenport, Russ Freeman, Walter Beasley, Maysa, just to name a few.

I'm sure I forgot some, as a matter of fact I know I have, because I just can't think of them all. I also love Acid Jazz and many of those artists I haven't managed to keep up with.

For your listening enjoyment I selected two items. One is from the man who started it all for me, Mr. Miles Davis. The title track off the Tutu album. Timeless Music y'all.

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You Tube wouldn't allow me to embed this track, but you have to check out Pat Metheny, the instrument he plays on this selection is amazing. It's some sort of guitar, but it makes an absolutely wonderful sound. Pat Metheny

Everyone have an absolutely fantastic beginning to the week.


Richly Spoken

Listen and Learn. Happy Friday Y'all.

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The Mall Whore

I was in the mall on Tuesday evening waiting on the wife to finish some shopping. As I was strolling through the mall while also keeping an eye on my little fella as he tried to touch everything he could get his hands on, I was approached by a sales lady. She was about 5'5", long brunette hair and she had nice eyes. I didn't look close enough to see the color, but there was something about the way she was looking at me. She wanted me to try some lotion. Some lotion, I thought. Do I look ashy? But wait. This was special lotion.

I don’t know what it was. Maybe the way she appealed to me to try it, maybe the way her eyes searched me for compassion for her plight, but I found myself holding out my hand. She dumped some sea salt crystals in my hand and asked me to begin washing them over a white bowl. “How does that feel….Richard” she said looking down at my security badge from work. “It’s okay,” I said to let her know I wasn’t buying jack. I continued to follow her directions, “Rub the top of your hands.” Then she pours water over them and shows me all this supposed dead skin. She reaches for the magic lotion. “Now put a little of this on,” she said trying to ease into her close.

“Doesn’t that feel great!” You would have thought I had just been given fellatio by the look in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I said, determined to get away with my money intact.
“Just okay,” she said moving into my personal space. She touches my hand. I look around for my son who’s now trying on designer $12 shades at the next booth over.

“Yeah, it’s just okay.”
“You got to be kidding me, your hands feel wonderful. Imagine how this would feel on your feet.” I started to shock her and take me shoes off and tell her to get to rubbing, but I chilled. I was more worried my wife was going to walk up on me while this lady was smiling and rubbing on me.

“Look, it feels okay, but I’m not buying anything. I’m just wasting time until my wife comes to meet me.” I had to say something; this chick was looking at me like she wanted to do me. In case she didn’t see the ring, I needed her to know I was married. I was getting uncomfortable as she looked dreamily at me trying to sell me some doggone lotion. My son came over oblivious to this woman prostituting herself for a sale.

“What’s your name,” she said. Here we go, I thought. Trying to use my son to show some sincerity.

“Miles,” he said.
“That’s a nice name,” she followed.
“Hey, thanks for the lotion, we are going to get going, ” I said.
“Before you go, let me share this deal with you.” She says as she enters my personal space again. Man, she is relentless. I look around to see if wifey is coming. “The sea salt normal goes for $45, because it’s a years supply and the lotion goes for $40, but since I’ve had such a great day and you’ve been such a great guy, I’ll give you both for the cost of the sea salt alone.”
I give her my do I look like I was born yesterday look.

“I’m really not interested today. I just spent a ton of money dropping my daughter off to college.” Where is my wife at? She sure is taking forever to come out of Macy's.
“You don’t have a daughter in college,” she says in a surprising tone.
“Yes I do. I’ll be 40 this year.”
“You don’t look that old,” she says looking at me like I’m the one selling lies.

I pull out my drivers license, clearly flattered that I have the youthful look going. I also figure I’m going nowhere fast. Not to mention, I backed up to get her up out of my face, as she continues to look on smiling like she wants to do me on the spot. Man she has no shame. Doesn’t she see these people walking around? I know I'm fly and all, but damn.

“Wow, you look good for your age.”
“Thanks. So, like I was saying I’m not interested today, but thanks for the offer.”

Girlfriend turns around and tries to sell me another smaller combination for $20, but when I’m not buying….I’m not buying. As I walked off I started tripping about what just went down. I wondered if she was digging me. I let the thought leave me, but I ended up walking back past her about 10 minutes later. “Hi Miles,” she says, but we kept on walking, I wasn't in the mood for another sales attempt. I still hadn’t found my wife, so I was a sitting duck. Did I mention that I hate shopping? So we go sit on the sofa strategically placed in the mall for weary husbands and old folks trying to catch a breather. I can see her sales counter from where I’m sitting. I see a tall blonde guy approaching. He presents the same apprehensiveness that I exhibited, but she reels him in, with just as much ease as she had done with me. I watch as she repeats her flirting sales manner and in that moment it hits me. She was never digging me, it was all about the sale, she's nothing more, than a mall whore.


Monday Memories

On my last post, Miz mentioned that she liked Tavares. I hadn’t heard that name in a long while, and couldn’t remember anything they did off the top of my head, so I went to good old You Tube and found some of their music. I don’t have any particular memories surrounding this group except remembering one of my Uncles had a green Grand Torino around this time. The group did have some hits back in the day. The songs I remember, thanks to You Tube are Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel and Don’t Take Away The Music. I was also surprised that they covered a song by Hall and Oates (those boys were bad). Which version do you like better?
She’s Gone.


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Hall and Oates

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Soundtrack of my life

Soundtrack of my life

Music has played an integral part in who I am. At least it used to. I find myself not listening as much as I have in previous years because nothing really moves me or appeals to me right now. I pretty much sample everything these days, Gospel, R&B, Jazz and Hip Hop, but I feel at a loss for definition of who I am musically. As I look back at my life, I can hear an old school cut and tell you pretty accurately where I was at that time.

Curtis Mayfield – Freddie’s Dead reminds me of riding in the back of a gold Caddy owned by a friend of my old man’s. I was in about the 1st grade, age 6, 1973.

Barry White – Love’s Orchestra – Washington D.C., second grade, Ross Elementary school. I also remember The Black Birds (Donald Byrd) song Rock Creek Park, another tune, can’t remember the artist, but I’m sure you know it, the lyrics went “Do it, Do it, Do it till satisfied” --- 1974

My adolescent years were laced with soul, disco, and pop.

The Bee Gees – Stayin’ Alive, More than a Woman
Donna Summer – Bad Girls, Last Dance
Gloria Gaynor – I will Survive
Rick James -Mary Jane
Ashford and Simpson – Is it Still Good To Ya
A Taste of Honey – Sukiyaki

Most of these cuts were out when I was in the 6th grade, age 11, 1978

Middle school 1979 – 1982 brought on a whole new flavor – the birth of Hip Hop, disco was dead by now but soul and pop were still hanging on.

The Sugar Hill Gang – Rapper’s Delight
Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five – It’s Nasty, The Message
Kurtis Blow – Basketball
Hall and Oats – Sara Smile, Kiss on my list, Private Eyes
Lionel Richie – Still
Stevie Wonder – Master Blaster

High School – 1982 – 1985 – was all about Rap and R&B (no longer called soul music)

Africa Bambata
Michael Jackson – Thriller album, need I say more.
Fresh Prince
Dana Dane
Luther Vandross
Anita Baker

It’s too many to name
And the 90’s – fuggetaboutit

Tribe Called Quest
Digital Underground
Public Enemy
The Jungle Brothers
Diggable Planets
Pete Rock and CL Smooth
and on and on and ya don't stop!

So, basically what I’m getting at is that our life is a soundtrack, so tell me, who played in yours.

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The Jetsons have arrived

Last night I went to a presentation allowing me the opportunity to create a home based business as a rep for this company called 5Linx. Of course I only went because one of my boys invited me over, but being the enterprising sort it got me to thinking. I wonder what other people think about this "opportunity." I wonder if they think it has promise. The only reason I care to ask is because it has a direct marketing structure. So check out this Jetson's Technology and tell me what you think. I'm just curious. If you'd rather not leave a comment and would like to email me, do so at

[click "play" (the arrow button) to watch]

This business would cost you a minumum of $100 investment (use the service and introduce to others) or $499 plus about $300 (equipment and fees) if you want to go all out and really do this as a business. I don't even need to mention the compensation plan because you can make what you work for - hundreds a month or thousands.

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Moment of Clarity

Life is calling. What role are you casting for?

Leading actor/actress --- A-Lister. Always delivers. Works until they get it down just right. Usually attractive, physically fit, charming.

Supporting actor/actress --- Talented but not always proven. Can’t quite carry the project, yet. Has the ability to steal the show. Attractiveness varies. Sometimes used for comic relief.

Cast member --- Gets in where they fit in. Just wants to be in the number. No one remembers their name. Just a face in the crowd.

Which one are you?

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chance encounters 5

chance encounters 5

Since meeting Kayla I seemed to be unraveling like a braided cord under duress. Not only have I had eyes for her, but my overall defenses have been down. I’ve abandoned church altogether. I can’t stand being a hypocrite. I’ve also been overly responsive to other attractive women. So far restraint has allowed me to dodge the bullet of infidelity, but I sense myself spiraling towards the point of no return. It’s almost like I’m watching the actions of another man. Like it’s not me who’s doing any of this. I feel like I need to do something about it, but I feel helpless, like a sheep heading into slaughter.


Sometimes trouble is like a game of chicken. You find yourself face to face with it but for the simple fear of being called scared you avoid getting out of the way; you continue traveling head long into it knowing “this is a mistake.”

My thoughts kept coming around to that very conclusion while I took the twenty-minute drive to Kayla’s. I reasoned that I had already sinned in my mind, so carrying it out wouldn’t be a big deal. I’d just repent afterwards. It’s what everybody did.


As I made my way down the L shaped stairs toward her bedroom, I tried calming my nerves by taking a sip of the drink she had prepared for us. Grand Marnier and Orange Juice. The same drink we sipped on the night we met. She remembered. I liked that about her. She paid attention to me. Remembered things I told her in conversations and made me feel like what was going on in my life mattered. With Sheila I was just somebody to pay the bills, take out the trash, keep the cars clean and whatever other “man” stuff she had for me to do. We had become each other’s answer to duty. But it wasn’t like that with Kayla. The more I thought about it the firmer my decision became. I could do this. Hell, I deserved this! Besides, I was tired of putting up with Sheila’s benevolent vaginal offerings.

I knocked. A voice came from the opposite side, “Come in.” I should have taken another sip of my drink, because I wasn’t ready for the image that was waiting for me. There she was -- bent at the waist, legs straight, red thong smiling, as she strapped on her black heels while standing next to what appeared to be a pole.

“You got to be kidding me….a stripper pole,” I said clearly not hiding the surprise in my voice.
“I figured it would be fun.” She said with a smile “A way to take the tension out of the evening. I borrowed it from one of my girlfriends. You know Robin, the one I told you about with all the men. She takes a pole dancing class. I sat in on it a couple of times and learned a few moves.”

“Boy, I can’t wait to see those.”

“Well, I tell you what, you take a seat by the door there, enjoy your drink and let me do the rest.”

As she walked to the other side of the room my eyes helplessly followed. I hadn’t even undressed and this was better than anything Sheila and I had ever done. When we had sex it was good, but it was pretty well orchestrated, never a surprise. I could always tell when she was ready to have sex simply by the way she dressed for bed. We rarely did it when I wanted to. She controlled everything, just sucked the spontaneity right out of our sex life, which made this evening more of a treat.

“Well, you sure threw me off with the jazz you had playing.”

“I didn’t want you to think you were coming up in here to get raped. Although, I can’t wait to see what’s underneath all that clothing you have on.”

“That’s not a problem at all. As a matter of fact, I can lose some of it right now.”

“I have a better idea. Why don’t you let me start the music, dance a little for you and unwrap my present myself.”

That said she clicked the remote in her hand. The familiar chords of a keyboard begin to play as Prince’s Diamond and Pearls started our first act of the evening. I leaned back in my chair, took a sip and begin to drink Kayla in slowly. Her calculated movements towards me caused me to stiffen. I repositioned myself just in time for her to come and straddle my leg.


Button… Zipper… Pull…. Hot kisses. I’m buzzed. In between sets, we got blunted while I gave her some of my own foreplay. In return, baby girl has been swirling, spinning, sliding, nibbling and licking me into a frenzied heat. Somehow I’ve only managed to lose my shirt. “Not yet,” she keeps saying, her nakedness testing me as she grinds her body against mine amid the intoxicating sounds of pleasure. “I want to taste you.” She finally whispers. So eager to please, I begin removing my remaining clothing. With my strength finally free of restraint she takes me in her hand while looking down admiringly at her new prized possession. I smile knowing I’ve made good on my boasting, but the look in her eyes begins to change. I can’t quite make it out. Somehow delight has turned to horror. My awareness doesn’t fully set in until I feel the unforgiving metal pressed against the back of my ear. I hear the hammer pull back and set into place. “Make one false move and I’ll kill you dead,” came a voice smelling of cigarettes and two-day-old drunkenness. “Now get on over there on that bed….the both of you. I bet you didn’t think I’d find you did you Mae Francis?”

“Julius!? How the hell did you get in here?”

“You know this guy?” I said trying to figure out how I just went from screwing to getting seemingly screwed. This guy Julius didn’t seem like her type at all, and why was he calling her Mae Francis.

“Does she know me? How the hell you think she gone forget me, I’m her husband.”

“Her husband!” I said in disbelief, then turning my head to Kayla or whatever her name was I said, “ I thought you said you weren’t married.”

“No….I said….a husband is something I’ve never wanted.”

“Well look a here…..Mister Lover Man just found out you ain’t nothing but a lying ass ho. So you don’t want me eh? Is that why I caught you with your filthy hands around another man’s Johnson! I should of killed you when I had the chance. Now you got this son of a bitch in here, so I guess I got to kill the both of ya.”

“Umm, hey uhhh….This sounds like a private matter, I ain’t got nothing to do with this.” I didn’t want to leave old girl hanging, but this was some of her twisted chickens coming home to roost.

“Ohhh, you got everything to do with this Mister Lover Man. You and every filthy low life that’s running around just like you.” His blood shot eyes pierced me, no, stabbed me with the guilt that was impossible to deny. Our nakedness a testament to his every word. “The nerve of you sleeping with a married woman….my woman.”

“But I didn’t know she was married,” I pleaded.

“That still doesn’t excuse you because you’re married too.” He caught the look in my eyes having found me out. “Thought I didn’t know that, didn’t you? I saw you slipping your ring off in the car before you ran up in here. You shoulda drove your ass home to your own wife, now you got to pay too.”

I tried to find the words that would get me out of this mess. Something that would help me to get safely back home to Sheila, but nothing was coming to me.

“Don’t do this, I’ll do whatever you want,” Kayla said standing, trying to appeal to him sexually. In one swift motion he raises his left hand and backhands her to the floor, spilling some of the contents of the bottle he was holding.

“Get your filthy hands off of me. I can’t stand the sight of you. I’m so mad with you I don’t know what to do. Got me looking for your ass for over a year now. You shoulda thought about that before you left.” Kayla laid on the floor crying; pleading to Julius between sobs for him not to do this. The fear and trembling in her voice let me know that he was capable of murder.

In that moment I recalled the scriptures in Proverbs that talked about the wrath of a man finding his wife with a lover. This had to be a bad dream. I wanted someone to shake me and wake me up, but it was real. I had messed up bad this time. God tried to reach me, but my flesh got the best of me. I should have never dialed her number. Should have followed my first mind to keep going. Should have left well enough alone. As I sat there contemplating my fate during the seconds that seemed like minutes, Julius took another drink out of the bumpy bottle of Seagrams Gin he held in his left hand. He turned it up. I watched him watch me as he took gulp after gulp as if it were water. I thought of rushing him to try and wrestle that gun from his hand, but I sat motionless. Frightened by the thought of what Kayla’s tears knew all too well. I watched as Julius raised his gun hand and pointed it towards me, I closed my eyes and waited for him to squeeze.

This will conclude the blog edition of chance encounters. I think I will work on this some more and turn it into a novella, possibly rewrite some of what's already written and fill in the gaps a bit. But consider this a first free look. I hope you enjoyed it. As time permits, maybe I will create another blovella. Feel free to comment or ask any questions you have regarding the story. Thanks for stopping by.

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Uhh Ohh

It's Wednesday already?! Dude ain't ready today, he got some other stuff going on. Have to holla at ya'll later. Two fingers - that's peace for you squares. In the meantime, here's a few jokes.

Taking It To The Next Level

A guy had been dating a girl for over a year when he decided it was time to take their relationship a stage further.

"How do you feel about sex?" he asked cautiously.

"It's fine, she said, "as long as it is infrequent."

He looked at her, puzzled. "Is that one word or two?"

The Price of Marriage

William and Mildred were married for 25 years. They decided to celebrate with a trip to Las Vegas. When they entered the hotel/casino and registered, a sweet young woman dressed in a very short skirt became very friendly. William brushed her off rather rudely. Mildred objected, "William, she was nice, that young woman, and you were so rude."

"Mildred, she's a prostitute."

"I don't believe you. That sweet, young thing?

"Let's go up to our room and I'll prove it." In their room, William called down to the desk and asked for Candie to come to room 1217.

"Now," he said, "you hide in the bathroom with the door open just enough to hear us, okay?" She did. Soon, there was a knock on the door. William opened it and Candie walked in, swirling her hips provocatively.

"So, I see you're interested after all," she said.

William asked, "How much do you charge?"

"$125 basic rate, $100 tips for special services."

William was taken aback. "$125! I was thinking more in the range of $25."

Candie laughed derisively. "You must really be a hick if you think you can buy sex for that price."

"Well," said William, "I guess we can't do business. Goodbye." After she left, Mildred came out of the bathroom. "I just can't believe it."

William said, "Let's forget it. We'll go have a drink, then eat dinner."

At the bar, as they sipped their cocktails, Candie came up behind William, pointed slyly at Mildred, and said, "See what you get for $25?"

5 Questions Most Feared By Men

1. What are you thinking about?
2. Do you love me?
3. Do I look fat in this?
4. Do you think she is prettier than me?
5. What would you do if I died?

What makes these questions so difficult is that each one is guaranteed to explode into a major argument if the man answers incorrectly (i.e. tells the truth). Therefore, as a public service, each question is analyzed below, along with possible responses.

Question #1: What are you thinking about? The proper answer to this, of course, is: "I'm sorry if I've been pensive, dear. I was just reflecting on what a warm, wonderful, thoughtful, caring, intelligent woman you are, and how lucky I am to have met you."

This response obviously bears no resemblance to the true answer, which most likely is one of the following: a. "Football." b. "Golf." c. "How fat you are." d. "How I would spend the insurance money if you died."

Perhaps the best response to this question was offered by Al Bundy, who once told Peg, "If I wanted you to know what I was thinking, I would be talking to you!"

Question #2: Do you love me? The proper response is: "Yes!" or, if you feel a more detailed answer is in order, "Yes, dear."

Inappropriate responses include: a. "Oh yeah, sh*tloads." b. "Would it make you feel better if I said yes?" c. "That depends on what you mean by love." d. "Does it matter?" e. "Who, me?"

Question #3: Do I look fat? The correct answer is an emphatic: "Of course not!"

Incorrect answers are: a. "Compared to what?" b. "I wouldn't call you fat, but you're not exactly thin." c. "A little extra weight looks good on you." d. "I've seen fatter." e. "Sorry, what did you say? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died."

Question #4: Do you think she's prettier than me? Once again, the proper response is an emphatic: "Of course not!"

Incorrect responses include: a. "Yes, but you have a better personality." b. "Not prettier, but definitely thinner." c. "Not as pretty as you when you were her age." d. "Define pretty." e. "Sorry what did you say? I was just thinking about how I would spend the insurance money if you died."

Question #5: What would you do if I died? A definite no-win question. (The real answer, of course, is "Buy a Ferrari and a boat.")

No matter how you answer this, be prepared for at least an hour of follow-up questions, usually along these lines:

Woman: Would you get married again?
Man: Definitely not!
Woman: Why not -- don't you like being married?
Man: Of course I do.
Woman: Then why wouldn't you remarry?
Man: Okay, I'd get married again.
Woman: You would? (With a hurtful look on her face)
Man: (audible groan)
Woman: Would you sleep with her in our bed?
Man: Where else would we sleep?
Woman: Would you put away my pictures, and replace them with pictures of her?
Man: That would seem like the proper thing to do.
Woman: And would you let her use my golf clubs?
Man: She can't use them -- she's left-handed.
Woman: (silence)
Man: Sh*t.

One more won't hurt.

The Bull Grapevine

Three bulls heard via the grapevine that the rancher was going to bring yet another bull onto the ranch, and the prospect raised a discussion among them.

First Bull: Boys, we all know I've been here five years. Once we settled our differences, we agreed on which 100 of the cows would be mine. Now, I don't know where this newcomer is going to get his cows, but I ain't givin' him any of mine.

Second Bull: That pretty much says it for me, too. I've been here three years and have earned my right to the 50 cows we've agreed are mine. I'll fight him, run him off or kill him, but I'm keeping all my cows!

Third Bull: I've only been here a year, and so far you guys have only let me have 10 cows to take care of. I may not be as big as you fellows (yet) but I am young and virile, so I simply must keep all my cows.

They had just finished their big talk when an eighteen-wheeler pulls up in the middle of the pasture with only one animal in it: the biggest Son-of-Another-Bull these guys had ever seen. At 4,700 pounds, each step he took toward the ground strained the steel ramp to the breaking point.

First Bull: Ahem... You know, it's actually been some time since I really felt I was doing all my cows justice, anyway. I think I can spare a few for our new friend.

Second Bull: I have plenty of cows to take care of, if I just stay on the opposite end of the pasture from him. I'm certainly not looking for an argument.

They look over at their young friend, the 3rd bull, and find him pawing the dirt, shaking his horns, and snorting.

First Bull: Son, let me give you some advice real quick. Let him have some of your cows and live to tell about it.

Third Bull: Hell, he can have all my cows. I'm just making sure he knows I'm a bull.

That should give y'all plenty to talk or think about. The story should be back on track soon.

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What is "Literary"

Since I immersed myself BACK into writing about a year ago, I kept hearing this term "literary" being thrown around. I would hear other writers say, "this wasn't literary" or "that wasn't literary" and I was confused. I thought (I know I'm putting myself on the line to be called dumb) that if you wrote a book and it was readable, then it was literary since it pertained to literature. Since I knew it couldn't be that simple, I asked a couple of writers whose work I respect a great deal. When questioned they both spoke of writing that contained a certain life to it, a voice that took the reader on a journey of the senses, a journey that opened their eyes to the common, yet in a way previously unimaginable. I received their explanation in concept and I've read writers that have delighted me with their choice of words, but after reading DROP, I finally understand. Thoroughly.

Mat Johnson does an excellent job of taking the reader on a literary journey in this heart felt love letter to Philly; his native residence. It was well paced, funny, and delightful. The characters came alive to me and as I spoke of the story to my wife and daughter I spoke of the main character as if I knew him. They chuckled at how taken I was by the story. So, although these words don't quite express how much I really liked his book, I will end by simply saying it was quite a delightful read.

The book was his first novel, and you may have to order it either from your bookstore or someplace like amazon, but it is worth the wait.

I do however fear that not everyone will like him, because of his choice to be "literary", but if you are like myself, seeking to better yourself in this craft or just wanting to read "the good stuff", take a glance at Mat Johnson's work as he holds class.

He also has a blog that has long been a part of my links, practically since day one, and to think I just read my first book by him. But like most things that are divinely appointed, his book was right on time. I love the lessons it contained.

Check him out y'all.

Matt Johnson

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Who Am I?

I’m still that lanky kid with the easy smile looking for the light in everyone he meets

Still the guy who wants everyone to get along and be happy although I always knew there would one joker who would mess it up for everybody

I’m the guy who hangs with everyone and no one, never really fitting in for long, but not really needing to either, because I like me

Still the guy striving to fulfill his name in every sense of the word

The guy who wants another chance to get it right and who hates to lose even when I feel like I’m running out of gas

The guy that just doesn’t understand why some people consistently go left when they know to go right

The guy who’s ever changing yet unchanging, ever pushing the envelope while examining myself to see how I can do it better

Compassionate and Critical

Rarely Unforgiving

Willing to acknowledge my mistakes

Righteous yet not without sin

A King and a servant

Mega Rich, Rich in the STL, R. Fitzgerald, Rich, but “Jerry” to my momma

No matter the day of the week, I'm still me.

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chance encounters 4

chance encounters pt. 4 - weekly addition to the ongoing blovella (blog novella) -- If you haven't read the previous editions, please take the time to catch up - this story moves around a bit.

And now the continuation of chance encounters......

Lying to myself had become this customary game that I played; a game that I dabbled in the way a toddler watched cartoons - small frames of make believe that could be viewed over and over and over again. It seemed harmless enough. My way of getting a needed break from reality. All too often, reality came through like surround sound being emitted from a sixty-inch Digital Light Processing monitor with the volume on forty. Animation was better; lighter and more digestible. That’s what I needed right now; a bit less volume and a lot more animation. I hated this feeling of guilt that was upon me. And despite the merlot colored cushioning, the pew I was sitting on was taking a bite out of my buttocks. But it felt a lot better than the spiritual beating I was getting. Church with Sheila was no fun today. Everyone seemed to be into the message except for me. Pastor’s smooth baritone was coming through way too loud and clear.

“Son. Daughter. God sees you. He knows your pain, and he knows your struggles. He knows the state of your relationships, but he’s waiting on you to hand it over to him. He’s waiting on you to get tired of trying to work things out for yourself. The bible says in first Peter that we should cast all our cares on him because he cares for us. So let me ask you a question. When someone is taking care of you do you expect to have to do the work yourself? Of course not. So what God is saying is that we should trade in our ability to solve our problems for his ability.” He pauses. Collects his “wells” and “amens” before continuing. Gathers his handkerchief into his right hand and wipes the spittle from the corners of his mouth. Looks seemingly directly at me, points his finger and says, “You aren’t strong enough to stop sinning on your own.” I did an internal leap back. Looked out of my peripheral to see if anyone else noticed that, especially Sheila. He turns to the left. “That’s why you keep shacking with Johnny.” Then to the right, “That’s why you still chasing Susie.” Then back to the center, “That’s why you still getting high.” He wipes his mouth again, “But if you turn it over to Jesus, he will give you strength. The bible says you can do all things through Christ who strengthen you. Do you believe it?” Yes’s reverberated around the sanctuary, “Do you believe it?” I finally let out a “Yes Lord!” to keep from looking guilty, “then let go of your past and let God do a new work in you.”

So like I was saying, I like to play this game. In the game, this is where I drift away from Technicolor and into the land of Hanna Barbera. The place where I magically sweep everything under the rug. Convince myself that my little bit of dirt doesn’t matter. That he wasn’t really talking to me, because I ain’t even done nothing yet. Still, Kayla is on my mind more than she should be. She’s become my new drug of choice. And if I could light up now, I would.

I want to live right. For real. You believe me don't you? You just don't understand my situation (another lie that came full circle). You see, I only married Sheila cause she got pregnant. Told myself I was in love. Too bad it was just the love of wanting to be a father. I wanted to be a real daddy. Not like these dudes on the street. I was going to be with the mother of my child. Raise my kid in a loving environment. Come home everyday and be a shining example. I needed to prove to myself that I was better than the man who gave birth to me. Problem was...that didn’t translate into love for Sheila. I overlooked the fact that I needed more than an axe to grind to keep me on the right path. But if you lie well enough and long enough you can convince yourself of anything. So, I faced “deep like” and "good sex" at the altar and said I was doing the right thing. Two months later she lost the baby. Five years later here I am trying to live right and be a good Christian Husband to a fruitless woman while playing “I can be friends” with a woman who moves me with just the sound of her voice. Boy! I loved the way she talked. If there was ever a voice meant for impropriety, hers was it.

Pastor was giving an altar call as my my mind crawled out of La La Land, “Is there anybody who needs prayer?” I checked for Sheila, her eyes were glued on Pastor. I wanted to run up there and slide into home and hear the Lord say "SAFE", but I just sat and watched. “God can deliver you from the hand of the enemy,” came Pastor’s voice. I wondered if he was talking to me.

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