Different Races Running Different Races

I was sitting in a gym last night, waiting to film a basketball game. I had gotten to the gym early so I sat and watched the game that was being played before. The two teams that were playing were complete opposites. One team was more methodical and taller, while the other team was shorter and moved at a faster pace. It also happened that one team was predominately white, while the other was mainly comprised of minorities.

Let me just say that the officiating was fair. It was bad... but it was fair. But from early on, to me it seemed like the game had a certain edge to it. With every blown call, the fans for each side got more and more raucous, wondering how anyone with the ability to see, could miss what the referees just didn't see. And with every call that went for the other team, fans for each side made accusations about the integrity of said referees, claiming that the refs were in the other teams' back pocket.

As things progressed later into the game, the crowds for either team became increasingly animated and more upset as the game got deeper into the final quarters. The fans for the minority team screamed with an intensity that rattled the rafters, shook the bleachers, and reminded me of the tales I'd heard about Montgomery bus boycotts, and fights over Jim Crow. The fans for the mostly white team, felt like their team was getting robbed out of a victory due to the fact that the opposing team was made up of minorities. They were shouting that the game should be called fair, and that the referees should stop giving handouts. For the entire second half, shouts came from both sides of the gym, claiming that despite obvious cheating their team would prevail.

Now I hope its obvious that I am using massive amounts of hyperbole. I would never in a million years actually compare events that happened in the south during the 1960's to a basketball game I attended yesterday, and believe that they will ever be on the same level. But I have heard that conflict doesn't create character, it reveals it. I wonder what those people would say if they could see their behavior last night, and the level of character that it revealed. I honestly believe that if someone showed them a video of their actions, they would be ashamed.

Everyone Has A Secret.... But Can They Keep It?

Whoever said knowledge is power lied. Some forms on knowledge are disastrous. Take secrets for example... Why do people tell you things that they know will get you killed? Maybe killed is a gross exaggeration, but never have I been told a secret that has benefited me.

I'd like to take you way back if I could. The scene is 9th grade, and a young Bobby Williams was told a secret by a very pretty girl in one of his classes. She looked me dead in the eye and said, "Don't tell anyone, but I have a crush on your brother." So being a trustworthy guy, I kept that a secret, and everything was going well until one day years later, said girl ended up telling my brother about her since dissipated crush. Now, my brother's response, "Why didn't you tell me?" was a very rational and well thought out response. The pretty girl responded by saying that she told me. She seemed very surprised that since she said, "Don't tell..." I didn't tell.

To make a long story short, this girl shortly after telling me her secret, ended up going out with another guy for like 3 years. Immediately after events unfolded, my brother waited for me outside of my class and then punched me in the stomach. And for the last 15 years, every once in a while, he will remind me of my transgression. So thanks for nothing secrets... and the people who tell them to me.

Could You Be My Mission Springs?

Hey! Hello my friends, its been way too long. It has been a month since my last confession- err.... I mean blog. In that time I have done absolutely nothing. But last week I actually did something productive.... For a week, I was a chaperon at Mission Springs Science Camp. Yes it was me, a cabin, and a small group of 10 year old boys.

Now I know what you are thinking, "Who on God's glorious earth put you in charge of a group of young impressionable kids?" The lovely ladies who teach 5th grade at Valley Christian Elementary. For some unknown reason they seem to think that I am some sort of role model/ positive influence on these kids. That I can teach them things to help benefit them later on in life. They got it half right, as I did teach them the proper way to ambush their fellow cabin mates, the correct way to dive into the bushes to avoid detection, or the proper way to raid another cabin and stage a attack under the cover of darkness.

But in between what little knowledge I was able to impart, I actually learned something. And not just about science camp but about everything... I would like to share with you what I learned.

I learned that little boys, no matter how tough they appear to be in public still sleep with blankies, stuffed animals, and love Beyonce.

I learned that banana slugs and squid don't terrify girls... but spiders do.

I learned that even though bats can see really well both in the day and night, they use echo-location because they're blind.

I learned that sugar before bedtime is a bad idea...

I learned that ankle socks are not ideal for hiking, unless you want to stop every 30 feet to pull your socks up.

I learned that the true joy of teaching is being there when a kid "gets it".

I learned that being 6'4" makes for being really lousy at games involving hiding, no matter how deep you dive into the bushes.

I learned that I should put a ring on it if I like it.

No matter how loyal you think kids are, they will turn on you in a pillow fight.

And last but not least I learned that it pays to be nice to every kid, because one of them may be the chaperon when my kid goes to science camp.

Boldy Saying What Other Men Wanted To...

No, I'm not engaged yet, but can someone tell me what the importance is of engagement photos? The Girlfriend and I are practically Hatfield's vs. McCoy's on this subject. She sees them as necessary, a beautiful way to mark the occasion... Where I see them as frivolous, and the equivalent of putting on the tuxedo to take your junior class yearbook photo.

When did it become the norm? Research must be done to determine this. Upon successful googling, I will power up the Mr. Fusion, and travel back to that date. Then I will find the groom, bring him back here and explain to him how not standing up to his fiancee, or the photographer has made life hell for the future. Hopefully he will see the error of his ways, and then we will return back to the past to alter the course of the future forever. Hopefully my efforts will also in some way subvert the men wearing pink movement, or wraps.

The Girlfriend countered with the argument that the photos mark the engagement. My response was, "Doesn't the ring do that?" Ladies don't get offended, but you know that once you get the bling, you all start doing stuff with your left hand way more often. Like you've been ambidextrous your whole lives. I've seen right-handed women start signing things with their left hands just so you can see the ring. Or my favorite is this move... they start walking around with that rare strain of arthritis that causes the palm of their left hand to face the ground with fingers outstretched.

So I know I won't probably ever get it. Nor do I care to. I don't think my stance will ever change. I will forever see engagement photos as a waste of time, so there is no point in arguing this with me. I will however close with this... Ladies, you get a five thousand plus dollar gift, you get to plan the "big day", you get to run the rest of our lives, and then once we die before you you get to spend our life insurance money. So if your man says he's not really feeling the engagement photos, do me a favor and let one slide...

Now hiring... Inquire Within

I've been sucking, pretty much at life. Well not at life, but everything in and what I'm supposed to be doing with my life, so I feel it is safe to say that I am sucking at life.It's so bad, I don't even blog when inspiration strikes, I now blog whenever The Girlfriend tells me to. It's funny because she wants to hear what I have to say, but she never lets me talk. (yes, it's a little mean, but fairly accurate.)

But never mind that, I am here to talk about the future. I have taken a little while to think and decide how I'm going to live the rest of my life. And I am here to introduce to you to Bobcorp. Bobcorp is my new venture, and my company will focus mainly on providing a better standard of living for me.

So anyways I'm sitting in my CEO chair and in walks one of my employees, upset at their job title. Apparently this employee wants a larger stake in Bobcorp. They want more responsibility, more hours, and adjacent offices. I sat there while the PowerPoint slides flipped one after another. And during lunch, we discussed financials, as well as a possible merger down the road. It was a serious day in the short existence of Bobcorp.

If you haven't guessed by now, The Girlfriend has been talking about a promotion to The Fiancee. So if this goes the way she would like, there will eventually be an opening in Bobcorp for the position of Girlfriend. All willing applicants should send there resumes and head shots down to the Bobcorp headquarters.

Happy Anniversary!!!

Today marks the six year anniversary of the day I officially gave out the title of The Girlfriend. She actually told me to write this blog, like she tells me to do everything else.... so I am obliging. It will be short, free of hyperbole and heavy handed words. So here it goes...

We had been on several dates, and spent numerous hours talking over instant message. And if you want to be technical, I actually asked her to marry me before I asked her to be The Girlfriend. But one Sunday, after spending the day in the park, I called her up and said, "I would like to be your boyfriend, if you will have me." She said "Absolutely!" and the rest is history.

So Happy Anniversary Babycakes!!!! Here's to six wonderful years, and hopefully many more.

Whodini Said it Best....

Yay! Another blog... That makes the second one of this month. I know my favorite five followers have been eagerly anticipating this. I just feel bad that I keep disappointing the rest of you who expect poignant political commentary, but instead keep reading about my severe hatred of Ed Hardy, or people who engage in cell phone activity at the movies.

I started this endeavor in early February with the goal of writing one blog a week. As you can clearly see by counting, I am failing in that. My short-comings are clearly transparent in juxtaposition to my dear friend Courtney "Second City" Ellis who to date has written upwards of 50 bajillion blogs in half the time. So thanks S.C., for setting the bar ridiculously high.

But I bring up S.C. for a reason... She is truly down to earth, awesome, and genuinely fun person to be around. We share a common love for all 80's cartoons, and a deep fondness for The Girlfriend. Whenever we get together I always feel like my life has been enriched, but after we leave I am also very sad. I'm sad for the fact that we only see each other maybe three times a year.

But it isn't just her. I have over one hundred friends on facebook, and family not included I spend time with maybe three or four of them. I know that realistically it is impossible to see everyone. But for me, two or three times a year isn't enough to be truly be considered friends.

Now I'm not saying I'm going through and "spring clean" my facebook... I'm just going to try and find a way to make more face to face time with the friends that I have. So heads up facebook friends... I'm coming.

Everything Old is New Again...

It's 1:30 am and I am supposed to be asleep because I have to get up in two hours. Why am I awake, and why am I getting up at 3am you ask? Can't tell you, it's a a secret.... Just know it is a big day though. But anyone who knows me and all my family and I have gone through these past few years could tell you, maybe if you ask them nicely enough.

In the past 6 years of dating, the girlfriend has talked to me about seasons. Not winter and summer, but phases of your life that cover a significant period of time. A season always seems to end when you are transitioning into something new and completely different, with an example being graduating from college and getting your first real job, or transitioning from single life to being married. This last year for me has been the Season Of Sucktitude.

My computer and a lot of you may realize that sucktitude is not actually a word, but I don't care. A better use of your energy would be asking why my year has been so sucky. It happened in two stages, Firstly, my family and I have gone through a really trying time, where to put it cryptically, we weren't operating at full capacity. That blow hit us all like an uppercut from Mike Tyson, and while we were still reeling, punch drunk from being clobbered by that, I lost my job. Boom... Knockout... Thanks for playing.

I tried to put on a brave front and remain stoic, steadfast, and upright while tsunami sized waves of anger, doubt, and uselessness just battered me. I was, and still am to some extent, hurting from all that has happened. But with no real time to process it, I have not had time to heal. So while I seem fine, I know that there are parts of me that are broken. And it has been real hard to feel like anything but a failure.

I'm hoping that at 3:30 all that will begin to change. That my S.O.S. will be heard and I can turn the corner. The Williams clan will be able to form Voltron and slay Robeasts once again. (80's cartoon reference... Google it.) I will find a new job, one that I truly love and pays me crazy loot... And more importantly, I can get back to being the old me again. Maybe not completely the old me, but a much more refined, and stronger me... One who is ready to take on the next season in his life.


P.S.: For the record, I am definitely the yellow lion.

Random One Shots...

These are one shots. They don't have anything to do with anything particular, they are just random thoughts that I have had throughout the week. So don't try and look for an overall theme.... because there isn't one. Just sit back and enjoy the strange way my mind works.

Am I the only person on earth who thinks Drake is garbage? Probably. But there is no doubt that he is a member of the "Nick Cannon All-Stars". You know, guys or girls who started out on children's television, made a record and are suddenly mega stars or perceived to be gangsters. Stop. Your new found street cred doesn't make up for the fact that you used to get slimed for the enjoyment of people who eat boogers.

Somebody tell me how we as a species can unilaterally agree that green and red mean go and stop respectively, that all over the world the word police should start with the letter "P", and put several men on the moon, but we can't clearly define love?

Does anybody else remember when singers had actual talent? Now it seems that all you need is an auto tuner. Is that why T-Pain hasn't released a second album?

The one thing I have learned from the whole Barry Bonds/Manny Ramirez steroid issue is that it is worth the extra money to do business with a upscale drug dealer.

Does anyone else think that they create better modern art with a kindergarten student and a merry go-round?

I play left field for both of my co-ed softball teams, and last Saturday a yellow jacket bit me on my ankle because it got trapped in my shoe. I have now made it my mission to exterminate anything with black and yellow stripes.

Adding extra letters to words in text messages does not make them sound longer. Conversely, leaving out one letter does not actually save you any time. And for those of you who combine the two... well then you're just retarded.

I know every other dude in the world has thought this at one point, but why does no villain just kill James Bond the minute he shows up? It's like trying to fight Jackie Chan or Tony Jaa one on one... no matter what you're always going to lose.

The people at PETA need to relax... I love most animals but there is no way I'm ever protesting for their "ethical treatment". I don't remember in history class reading about a coalition called Animals Saving Humans that was formed during pioneer days. You never saw a deer throwing red paint on mountain lions, nor have you ever heard a bear say, "You know what? All that human eating we do, it can't be good for me. So from now on, I'm just going to be a vegetarian." So you PETA people leave Michael Vick alone... because condemning him for his faults but coveting coach purses and leather seats in your BMW is a tad bit preposterous.

Memo to all people about to have a baby.... Don't get your kid a goofy name. I know you want your baby to be unique, but naming them something like Starfighter, or Banana Bread won't make them different, it will just make them the butt of many jokes. Do them and yourself a favor. Name them Steve or Lisa but then, teach them that what they do with the talents God has given them and not their name is what makes them unique.

That was just the last two days...

I'm all man baby... yeah!

Being a guy is awesome! I am so glad I am a guy. I love being a guy so much that if given the choice to live forever as a woman or live the next 2o minutes as a guy, I'm picking guy every time. I can see it coming already. Women pouring out from everywhere saying things like, "Bobby you're so sexist. How can you say such horrible things?" Well let me think... It's easy. I have some examples, and if you allow me, I would love to share them with you. And don't worry, I'll stay away from the obviously gross things.

#1. It is okay for men to be hairy: I have hair covering the majority of my body, and so does every other human being on earth. In certain situations, my five o'clock shadow actually makes me more attractive. Not so with a woman. I have never been out and heard a guy say, "Dude... check out the chick with the stubble... now that's hot." And you know what? You never will. So while you pluck and wax every 15 minutes, I'm the exact opposite. I'm trying to revert to caveman days.

#2. Men don't give birth: This one will be controversial, I just know it. I'm not bashing childbirth, I'm just glad I don't have to do it. Motherhood does not look like any fun at all. You spend a few weeks puking your guts out, and craving the strangest possible food combinations. You make it through that phase, only to get bigger and wider. It becomes harder to walk and everything on you hurts. And at the conclusion of it all comes massive amounts of pain for prolonged periods of time... And that's it. Women spend nearly a year incubating a baby that genetically is half of a booger flicking, fart lighting goon. And heaven forbid if it is a boy, because you are introducing into the world another booger flicking savage... and someone else who will never fully understand you and your kind. But if its a girl, their formative years will be spent hating you and loving us... So enjoy those nine months full of weight gain, constant bathroom runs, morning sickness, stretch marks, and labor pains. Me and my fellow men will be over here high five-ing each other, thankful that we aren't you.

#3. It takes us no more than twenty minutes to get ready for anything: Women take forever to get ready to go anywhere. It takes an hour to decide what pair of yoga pants you want to wear to the grocery store. Why is that? Is it in case there is some cute guy in the produce section you want to look like you aren't superficial without looking homeless? Think I'm overreacting? Here is an example. The girlfriend was student teaching at a school no more than five minutes from her house. She told me she was tired from waking up at 5:45 every morning... but school started at 7:30 am. I asked her why she was getting up so early, and her response was, "To get ready." Huh? Any guy working ten minutes away from his house is waking up maybe 45 minutes before he needs to be at work... An hour if he actually plans on ironing his clothes beforehand.

#4. You are too emotional: Why is this? The roller coaster that is your emotional range is too much for me. It is so back and forth, so up and down that sometimes I feel I need to take a Dramamine just to keep from getting sea sick. I have never in my life had a moment where I just needed to cry. My day doesn't hinge on my emotional well-being. I have never had a fat day, or been upset when someone else has on the exact same outfit as I do. If that ever happens, I would calmly walk over and congratulate him on his superior sense of style. And the timing of these emotional issues is uncanny. It never fails that your emotional breakdown happens right in the middle of any major sporting event, or when your man is at his most relaxed. It's like the female brain senses these things and sends out chemicals that completely throw everything out of whack. So the next time this happens could you do us two favors? First wait until said game or nap is over... and if you can't just sit and wait and need to move, do it in another room. Because it's really hard to ignore your pacing and sighing no matter how much we try.

So yeah that's just a few of the reasons it is way better to be a man. But even though I consider it to be a gift, there are serious drawbacks as well. The girlfriend barring any major accidents will probably outlive me. But that is okay... because as the wise bards known as Def Leppard say, "It's better to burn out... than fade away."

In My Apartment I Have Many Misjudged Leather Bound Books

A couple of weeks ago, I was smacked hard in the face with a reminder of a lesson learned back in grade school. And when it happened, it was so startling and so pure that immediately i thought, "I gotta share this story... I'm definitely gonna blog about this." But I forgot about it until it hit me again... So now I have a story to tell you with a theme. The theme is that you should never judge a book by its cover.

So as I have mentioned in previous posts, my brother P.K. is legit when it comes to playing salsa music. So my sister, Showbiz, and I went to watch him play at a club were they have social dancing. This means that everyone stands along the wall and you just go up to someone and ask them to dance. It reminded me a lot of every junior high dance I have ever attended/seen on tv, except people actually were dancing. Anyway, ahead of us in line to get in was an asian man who looked like he came straight from his computer programming job at Google. He had the hair parted on the side, big glasses, and a long sleeve button up shirt with I kid you not, a pocket protector in the pocket, complete with several pens in it. I saw him and immediately pointed him out to Showbiz, and we both shared several minutes worth of jokes and laughing.

When we got in and sat down, they had just finished a song. This is tangental, but for some reason in this place, every time a song ended, everyone would clear the dance floor. Which was fine except for the fact that when the next song started up 30 seconds later, everyone was back out on the dance floor dancing... Made absolutely no sense to me, which I felt compelled to let my sister know for the next hour. Okay so back to the story... I look up and I see computer guy, I will call him Bill from now on, I see Bill standing on the edge of the floor. Then when the music starts up again, Bill walks up to easily the hottest woman in the place and asks her to dance. Now this lady looked the part, and she definitely looked like too much for my boy Bill.

As Bill lead her out to the dance floor, I nudged Showbiz, and said, "Watch this! It's about to be a disaster." But it wasn't. Bill apparently was trained in the arts of salsa dancing from birth, because he had it on lock. My man Bill seriously looked like Fred Astaire on roller skates, he was that graceful. I could not believe my eyes... Everything Bill did looked natural, like he was born knowing how to do it. But the jaw dropping moment, was when Bill, with the most stone faced expression, spun his dance partner around several times, grabbed her leg and pulled her close, and then drug her across the floor. Around this time everybody else just stopped and started watching Bill. He was in the zone! When the song ended, Bill dipped his dance partner, and as he let her go, he looked at me and threw me a head nod as if to say "what's up now?" And for the rest of the night, Bill had no shortage of partners, while I sat there watching.

So that's my story... I admit I had it coming, as Bill served me up a gigantic plate of humble pie. But I wonder how many times I've been misjudged by someone who just looked at the exterior instead of actually getting to know me first. I for one know that I will never make that mistake again... and I owe it all to Bill, the salsa dancing computer programmer.

Only Bill Cosby gives out Chocolate Cake

Happy Father's Day! Normally I don't celebrate today, but this father's day is a little bit different. I am happy to announce that I, Bobby Williams, am going to be a father sometime in the future! But all jokes aside, I figured that since I shouted out moms, it is only fair that I do the same for pops.

My relationship with my dad has in the past been akin to the Cold War of the 1960's. Never did fireworks ensue, but both parties clearly making it known that nuclear war could break out at any time. To me growing up, mom was the fun one... She taught me how to shoot a jump shot, throw a curveball, and dance so that I wouldn't embarrass myself when I went to dances. Dad on the other hand taught me how to dial a phone with one finger, (which I still don't do) during a rainy night on the side of the freeway, I got a hands on lesson on how to change a flat tire, and was able to get over my fear of public speaking by being made to emcee a basketball awards night. It seemed like for him everyday was a new chance to make me do something that I didn't really want to do. And for me it was a new opportunity to fight him with all I had.

My dad is not like the dads you might have found on your favorite 80's sitcom. I remember watching tv and seeing the sitcom dad talk to their kids about drugs, sex, and gangs with love and understanding. Those conversations on tv lasted half the episode, and ended with a hug... That's not how my "manhood" conversations went with my dad. He will deny this if you ask him, but this is exactly how it went. He called me into his room and I went in. As I turned the corner I see my dad, cleaning his gun (he's a cop), and he looks me dead in the eye and says, "If, you ever have a baby, do drugs, or join a gang I will kill you. I am a cop, I know how to do it and make it look like an accident. Are we clear?" I nodded my head, to which he replied, "Good, now send your brother in here." Who does that? You will never see that in any Dr. Spock book... Chapter 8 will never be "How To Threaten Your Kids Into Compliance". 

When I was younger, we fought about everything. But we also had some pretty great moments. He taught my brother and I the subtleties of getting revenge. He always said that without proper planning and execution, even the best plans can fail. He let us be part of a fake bank robbery, took us to Brazil, and taught me that people are always watching. One of his favorite quotes is "Character is what you do and how you act when no one is looking."

 But now that I am older, I see what my dad was trying to do. He was attempting to prepare me for adulthood. Sure, his methods were unconventional but they were effective. And despite my best efforts, I find myself becoming more and more like my dad everyday. And you know what? I'm okay with that. 

So happy father's day to all the dads out there. So enjoy your ties, coffee mugs, and macaroni picture frames. I look forward to the day when I am labeled the "World's Greatest Dad".

Don't do that...

Men... Guys... Dudes... Bros. We have so many names. We have magazines, and websites that cater specifically to us... telling us how to dress, what to drink, and even how to escape from jail. Everyday guys are bombarded with what he should do in order to be "the man". I mean it's nice to know how to get into the playboy mansion with only a post it note and a packet of mild sauce from Taco Bell in your pocket. Valuable information to be sure... but honestly when will that ever happen to me? And what about the things a guy shouldn't do? Why doesn't anyone try to do the opposite? You know... create a bunch of rules for the everyday that won't necessarily make you "the man", but should help you out in your everyday life. That would be great right? Well good thing you have me... because that's exactly what I'm about to do. This is a tentative list of some things a guy shouldn't do. *DISCLAIMER* This is a tentative, and fluid list...

Guys Should Never...

1. Let another man change his flat tire: Cars get flat tires. It happens. Every once in a while I'm rolling down the freeway and I see a tow truck guy changing a tire. He's down on his knees, working hard. Then off to the side I see another man standing there on his cell phone talking away and this irritates me to no end. The car obviously belongs to cell phone guy, but he's too good to change his tire? It makes me want to grab him by his livestrong (aka What Would Lance Armstrong Do?) bracelet and beat him senseless. I mean how does this sound? "Hey sorry I'm late for (insert manly event here) guys... I had a flat tire. But I called Triple A and got it taken care of." I think that not only would you be laughed at... You would be laughed at and kicked out of whatever event you were late for. And in my circle of friends, you might have issues of Cosmopolitan or a box set of sex and the city show up at your house. Your favorite drink will become the appletini, and your nickname may change to something like Shirley or Nancy. And you don't want that... do you? Of course you don't. Don't get me wrong, Triple A is a good service... for ladies who lock their keys in the car, or if your car breaks down on the highway in the middle of nowhere. But in no way should a man call for a flat tire, and then think that bungee jumping trip makes up for it. Jumping off of high ledges with a rope strapped to your ankles isn't manly... It's stupid.

2. Slap or allow yourself to get slapped by another man: If you are out and some nonsense escalates to the "lets go outside" stage, don't make things worse by slapping the other party. It's just not a good idea due to the fact that no man in history of men has ever been okay with being slapped. As a matter of fact in days long ago, slapping another man meant a duel was taking place. Do understand the seriousness that was placed on slapping another man? You couldn't slap another guy and then expect to casually stroll home. If you slapped another man, one of you had to die. I say we bring that back.

3. Teabagging: Seriously... do I even need to talk about this one? You just shouldn't do it. Out of respect for the ladies I won't get too graphic, but I will say this. We as men are homophobic by nature. Unless sports is involved, we avoid male to male contact like it is the plague. I mean even the man hug has been documented and posted on youtube. So why is it that when a guy passes out, we do something completely unnatural like teabagging? It's like you're saying, it's only wrong and gross, unless the other guy is unconscious. And to make matters worse, some guys even take pictures to document the event. How would you feel if 30 years from now, your kids stumble across a picture of dad and his frat brothers teabagging the Delta pledges during rush week? Please just quit it.

4. Hold a purse: Here's the scenario. You and the lady friend are out because she is shopping for everything but the thing you came to the store for. She finds some shirts (even though you came for pants) and wants to try them on. Before she heads into the dressing room she turns to you and says, "Can you hold my purse?" STOP!!! IT'S A TRAP!!! Before reach out your hand know two things. One is that she is marking her territory, letting the other women know that you are her property. The other thing is that she is testing you... seeing how much she can get away with. One day you're holding purses, and then before you know it you and the girlfriend are spending weekends at Crate and Barrel or Ikea picking out furniture and dishes for the imaginary house she's decorating in her mind. So if she hands you the purse just do what I do and put it at your feet. No one will steal it, and you know exactly where it is until she comes back. Or continue to hold it and have your life end up like this guy.

I've got more and can go for days... but I think this is a solid list to start. If you have one please leave a comment, or drop me a line elsewhere and let me know. 

Writer's Block

So tonight I was talking to my friend Kosher, (A name I just made up, by the way...) about my blog. She said that she reads every one of them, and like the other seven people who subject themselves to my absolute nonsense, I thanked her from the depths of my heart. So like I said to her I'm saying to the seven other people who have ever read this... Thank you. Because everyone likes to be heard every now and then.

With the love and support of people like The Girlfriend, P.K., Stephiles, and Kosher, I have been doing a bit of creative writing. Outside of this blog which I should maintain a little better, I have written a few short stories, and I am working on a children's chapter book. It's nothing too crazy, just me being left alone with my thoughts. I see everything I want to put down on paper play out like a summer blockbuster in my mind. I see colors, hear sounds, and can practically smell and taste things like I am there. I mentioned these four people because when I attempt to write, these are the four people who inspire me.

 My brother P.K. is my main competition, and I hate his guts. He plays the trombone in like several bands, and has written like six bajillion songs. It would be one thing if a few of them sucked, but everything he writes is good. And if that isn't enough, he has concerts where he gets on stage and plays all of his stupid jazz songs. Afterwards, people congratulate him on how awesome he is, and I get jealous. Right now, he is better at his craft than I am and that drives me to get better.

The Girlfriend is grade A, numero uno positive support. It is because of her that I even started writing at all. When I started writing and would get frustrated, she was always there with a word of encouragement, or some sort of support. She often times tells me that no matter what, the fact that I am doing this speaks volumes to what kind of man I am. She lifts me up, and it is reassuring to know that no matter what, win or lose, she will always be my number one fan.

Kosher is a little different. She keeps me in check. I applaud her for the fact that she has no problems telling me that I suck. If something is no good, she lets me know. If an idea is lame, she lets me know. Nobody I know is as hard on me as she is. But I know that is because she doesn't want me to settle for just being average. 

Stephiles to me represents the public, or the people I want to impact with my writing. She is smart, funny, and just flat out awesome. She is an avid reader, and if prodded, I'm sure she has a few stories tucked away somewhere. My goal every time I sit down at the computer is to win her over. Since I haven't known her as long as the other three, I feel like I have something to prove to her. I want to be so amazing that my writing knocks her socks off.

I'm not trying to be the next Hemingway or Joyce... I just love to write. I feel like there are ideas in my head that would make a great story. I just gotta get them out on paper. I guess I also just gotta keep practicing. Hopefully these four people will continue to inspire me as I go along.

Skin Tight is Not Alright

Hello... I had an insightful and thought provoking post I was working on. It was deep and poignant. It had stuff to make you laugh and stuff to make you cry. It was going to take you far off places, but also make you think. But in typical Bobby style, I am bumping it to bring you this one. 

I was talking to my boy J-Smalls today, and we got onto the subject of fashion, and in particular men's fashion. He asked me what I thought about everybody running around wearing Ed Hardy clothing. I told him that I hated it, but didn't really know why. So for the next few hours I thought about it. And if you have got time, I'd like to list them for you, right here and right now.

First off, let me just say I get it. I understand the whole vintage tattoo thing. It's cool and retro and all that. And some of the vintage tattoo art is amazing to look at. But someone please tell me what is retro about a pink v-neck t shirt? It just makes me laugh to see all these buff dudes in the clubs with hearts and stars all over their skin tight shirts. Or to be out at the mall and have a guy wearing a pink track jacket or hoodie with sequins on it. 

And to make matters worse, I was looking at their website and they have a celebrity link. If you click on it, you can see all of the famous people who have been photographed wearing their clothes. Let me share with you a few of the names on the list.... Ryan Seacrest, Coolio, Bobby Brown, Menudo, and Michael Jackson. Have you ever seen such a random group in your life?I know I haven't. I know had this stuff been around in the 50's, Frank Sinatra wouldn't be rocking the Ed Hardy glittery muscle tee. He would have gotten the real tattoo. Now don't get all huffy and say I'm only picking lame celebrities. I'm well aware that there are real celebrities who wear this stuff... But with those guys on the list, count me out. 

And I'm not mad at the people behind the Ed Hardy clothing line. They are a shining example of capitalism. I mean it takes real skill to sell someone an outfit that looks like it has been bedazzled by a 13 year old. I bet I know how that initial meeting went. Everyone got together and said, "Hey let's get a bunch of Hanes t shirts, get pictures of old tattoos, glue some glitter and sequins on... and then sell them for 100 bucks!" And then when they needed samples, they locked a bunch of grade school girls in a room with shirts, crayons, and boxes of lucky charms. You may laugh... but don't be surprised if you see a shirt with pink hearts or orange stars on it in the near future. Why? Because it's too brilliant. Convincing a bunch of adult men to wear the clothing equivalent of a Lisa Frank binder. I wish I had thought of it. 

I guess you know what really bugs me about it? Is you can't really tell the women's clothing from the men's. True story... I saw two people walking through the mall. He was about six feet tall and 200 lbs. while she was five foot three and considerably less heavy.  They had on the exact same shirt and hat! Now on certain occasions, I'm all for coordinating the clothes to compliment the lady friend... But wearing the exact same fit? That's in the top ten on the list of things to not do if you are a guy. I was willing to wager that their shirts were the same size as well, but the group of people I was with wouldn't take me up on that bet. 

Here's what it is... I'm old school. I like white t shirts and blue jeans, and I prefer my clothing to be on the baggy side. But on top of that I'm a concerned citizen, speaking out on a topic he believes in. As a card carrying member of the League of Men I call upon my fellow brothers in arms to speak out. I feel that this needs to stop before it gets really out of hand. If we don't make a stand now, guys in the future will be wearing halter tops with unicorns and rainbows on them. We will have forgotten all that made us men. The subtle nuances of the infield fly rule will be lost, so will the simple satisfaction of fixing things or changing a tire. What man would want to live in a world like that? I for one sure don't. 

Mama's Boy

So this is a few days late, but I wanted to write it anyways. And it's kind of hard to say publicly but with your help, I'm gonna try. Hello My name is Bobby... I love my mom, and I am a "Mama's Boy".  

Frankly, I don't know why we really only appreciate our moms one day a year. After all they have done for us, shouldn't our moms be celebrated all the time? I can't think of one person who has been more influential in my life than my mom. She taught me how to play sports, the difference between right and wrong, and how to stand up for what I believe in. She also taught me how to fight. But the most important thing she has ever taught me, is that no matter what, loving myself and my family are the two most important things I could ever do. 

My mom is three layers of awesome, with a spit-fire center, and wrapped with a wise coating. She calls me dude, still plays co-ed softball, and tries to ambush me constantly. See... in our house we have a game where you could get jumped walking around the corner. I originally started it, lying in wait and when people come around the corner I would strike like the lethal assassin that I am. Now my whole family plays, but no one is as good as my mom. She's laid me out several times, and all I can do is laugh because she got me. Me and my mom are buddies, so it upsets me that there are no activities that are strictly mother/son things. But we in a roundabout way have created our own. We play softball together, and we both coach basketball over at Valley Christian.

So yeah... I could go on for days, but I won't because then you would just stop reading. But before I go, I have two pieces of advice. The first piece is love and appreciate your moms everyday. And if you get a chance... just wait around the corner and ambush someone, its really fun. So Happy Belated Mother's Day to all the mom's out there. Normally I would make a joke right here about having a gift for all the single moms and listing my phone number, but I'm trying to keep it classy and I don't think the girlfriend would find it all that funny. So goodbye to you now.

Past & Present

I was talking to a friend of mine today, who kindly reminded me that I was almost 30.  We were joking around, but it got me to thinking. Nothing too crazy, but just thinking about where I am at in my life and things like that. You know, taking stock and all that good stuff. But my voyage into the past raised some interesting questions.

You know how every kid growing up has a dream job? They run around dressed up like the cowboy or fireman that they hope to someday become, emulating the tasks of their desired future profession. Lord knows, I've been busted by many a 5 year old police officer for Unnecessary Naptimes. And not to mention the countless check-ups by the future doctors of America.

But me? I didn't have anything like that. I never had a dream job or goal when I was younger. I just kinda drifted along, rolling along with whatever life has brought my way. I never tried hard in school, because I never really had a goal. Whenever anybody asked me about the future my standard reply would be a simple "I don't know." Over time, that answer slowly morphed into, "Being rich." or "Being awesome." 

Even to this day I still have no dream job. No calling.... no goal.... Nothing that hits me so hard and so true that I could spend the next 20 years doing that one thing and feel like my life has not been a total waste. I am good at many things,  so much so that I would venture to say that I've got skills. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I wonder what my life what would have been like had I had a dream. Or what my life would had been like had I tried harder. Would I be more successful? Definitely. Would I be happier? Possibly. But I realized that by the grace o God, I am exactly where I need to be. And I am loving every minute of it.

The Greatest Man Alive... (in my book)

So I am in L.A. visiting relatives, and it just hit me hard as to how much I love my grandpop. As they say in boxing, he is pound for pound the coolest man alive. Everything he does is just old school. From the way he walks and talks, to the way he dresses. He possesses the presence of a man who has lived life to his fullest.

He dresses cool, like members of the rat pack would if they were still alive and had retired to Palm Springs. No matter what the situation, he stays dressed to impress. Whenever he goes out he has the bucket hat on and it tilts ever so slightly. He also wears alligator shoes, but they aren't loafers. They are these high top boots with a zipper on the side, but 100% alligator skin. I often joke that I will one day have a pair just like them. 

He only watches the news, sports, and western movies. In just sitting with him today here is what we watched today. The Masters, a John Wayne movie, the Dodgers, vs. the Dbacks, boxing,  and now the Last of the Mohicans.  How cool is that? He has a lazy boy and next to the reclining chair is a list. On that list are his preferred TV channels, and there are two listed... ESPN and whatever channel shows westerns. I love the fact that with over three hundred channels showing thousands of different things but his list of favorites involves two of the things he has grown up with.

He gambles.... and he wins. He's not a guy who plays the penny slots wearing Bermuda shorts and black sock pulled up to his knees.... no, grandpop does it right. He goes to the racetrack, and plays black jack. I swear that during the last 50 years, he has helped to keep the Las Vegas Hilton solvent during his many Vegas runs. One of the best moments I've had is sitting across the black jack table from grandpop, while both of us were taking the hotel's money.

He speaks the truth, and expects nothing less from everyone else. I think that one is pretty self explanatory.

He loves all 8 of his children, his 43 grandchildren, and 25 great grandchildren, but he saves his best for his wife. I once asked him how he met my grandma. He told me that after he returned home from the Korean War (Oh yeah, he also fought in the Korean War) that he met her at a USO dance. Grandpop saw her from across the room, and she was talking to another guy. When that other guy went to get her a glass of punch, grandpop walked over and asked her for a dance. Everything after that is history. I asked him if the other guy was mad, and he responded with a nod. But he looked me in the eye and said, " Bob, it didn't matter if he was mad or not, because I was in love."

So those are just a few reasons why I love and respect my grandpop. He also always has good advice, and isn't afraid to share it. I just hope that I'm as cool as he is when I'm 82 with grandchildren of my own.

Weighing the Pros and Cons

So I'm sitting here with the girlfriend, in her room, and on her laptop. She has teacher stuff thrown all around the room, so I am forced to sit on the floor. She starts in on how some kid in the class she is student teaching did the cutest thing. And I'm trying to be a good boyfriend, a listening boyfriend, but all I could think about is a Double-Double from In and Out.

Is that wrong of me? Because although I love my girlfriend, I also love the Double-Double. And then I got to thinking, which one do I love more? Now before all the ladies (Stephanie, I'm looking in your direction), get upset just hear me out. Yes I've been in a relationship with the girlfriend for five years, but I've been in a relationship with cheeseburgers for much longer.

Yeah, me and Double-Doubles don't have intellectually stimulating conversations, but we also don't have fights. The Girlfriend isn't high in calories or saturated fat, but she does have bad days. The Double-Double doesn't mind that I'm late for dinner, but The Girlfriend doesn't need someone else to get her ready for me. And in doing the math, I've discovered that I will have spent more money in my lifetime on the girlfriend than I ever have on cheeseburgers.

Yes there are differences, but there surprisingly are similarities. Both cost me money, and will probably contribute to my death in the future. Both can get along fine without me, but it always seems to be better when I'm around. They both satisfy needs. The Double-Double makes me not hungry, while The Girlfriend makes me happy.

So who wins? I'm gonna say The Girlfriend. Realistically, the levels of satisfaction doesn't match up. Yeah The Double-Double costs less, but the feeling I get is fleeting. I have a feeling that the satisfaction I get from The Girlfriend will never go away.

5 Simple Rules for Movie Going

I went to the movies last night with the girlfriend, and I gotta say that going to the movies is more of a hassle now than ever before.  People these days need a reminder as to movie theater etiquette. So I'm gonna create a list of things you should not do while in a movie theater.

1. Turn off your cell phones, and then keep them off no matter what. I'm tired of you sending/ receiving five bajillion text messages. I understand that you and your "peeps" are trying to set up the rest of your night, and the movie is just the jump off. But while the highlight of your night is you getting blackout drunk and then projectile vomiting outside by your car, my big event is said movie. The light from your cell is both blinding and distracting, so either shut it off or take it outside.

2. Shut up. Everyone talks at the movies, but trying to guess every plot twist and turn is absolutely unnecessary. Also unless I am mistaken, most theaters do not employ in-house narrators. I'm sure your mom thinks your voice is soothing, but I sure didn't pay $10.25 to hear you talk. So please keep it down to a minimum.

3. Keep your appendages to yourself. Nothing is worse than sitting down in a crowded movie theater only to see feet next to you, and later on having the nail of the big toe creeping closer toward the straw. Or how about finally getting comfortable and having someone kick your chair. Especially during a long movie like Lord of the Rings. Not cool.

4. Control your children. I know you think that little Billy is precious and can do no wrong. But to me little Billy is nothing more than an obstacle between me and and enjoyment, and I will do whatever is necessary to deal with that obstacle. Allowing your little pookie bear to run up and down the aisles whacking me with his plastic light saber is not going to end well. I will take it, snap it in half, hand it back, and then send him back to you with tears in his eyes for you to deal with it. Also if it is a rated R flick, why is your 7 year old there at 11 o'clock on a Thursday night.

5. Get a room. I don't understand why making out in a movie theater is so alluring. Unless it's a kid's movie that you are seeing at midnight people are going to be in there with you while you are trying to get it on. So keep your hands to yourself. Or if you are too cheap to get a room, go to the drive-in like every other teenage couple in America.

I know these seem silly, but if you could follow these simple rules you will make the movie experience more enjoyable. I know I left some out, so if you have one please feel free to drop me a line and let me know.

Why my mind probably shouldn't be left alone

Every once in a while I am left unsupervised and to my own devices. And in these times it is when I do my best thinking. I wish I could say that the things I think up will somehow benefit mankind, but anyone who knows me can tell you that just isn't my style. I mean who else could come up with The Action Extreme Stunt Wedding? (Don't Ask...) 

And I really feel bad for my girlfriend Linda. Because on Sunday like all girls do, she asked the ill-fated question, "What's on your mind?" Normally, I shrug her off but yesterday I actually told her the answer to her question. I looked her in the eye and with an absolutely straight face, I said these words, "Linda... I want to be a pirate."

Linda laughed at me.  Which is something she often does because rarely do I ever say anything serious. But this time there are legitimate grounds for her fits of giggling. The reason this sounds preposterous is for two reasons: one is that you can't realistically make any kind of money being a pirate nowadays, and the other is I am deathly afraid of water. 

I won't get into why I'm afraid of water, because that is an entirely different story altogether. I will say however that it involves me, my good buddy Jimbo, a hollowed out tree trunk, a river in the Philippines, and a monsoon.  It doesn't take an iron chef to realize that this is a recipe for disaster. But just know that me and bodies of water bigger than a jacuzzi don't mesh well together.

I admit that with all my free time lately I have seen the Pirates of the Caribbean movies like a thousand times. But I want to be a pirate. How can you not though? With all the sword fighting, raiding, plundering, and just flat out shameless chasing of women. It would have been glorious. Although I would have taken care of my teeth. 

I would have been a great pirate, I think I still would be. Not all the time mind you, but I think just for like a week or two. I guess what I want is a pirate fantasy camp. How great would that be? Two weeks of sailing around, engaging in epic sea battles, sword fights, and rolling into a port and then laying siege to the town. Is there anything more rugged and manly? 

I say there isn't. Linda disagrees. But until I can live out my dream of being a pirate, I will be living vicariously through my role model Captain Barbosa. 

Introductions...

Hello, my name is Bobby. If you made a wrong turn on the information super highway, just press left several times and that should take you back to the interstate. If you are here on purpose, then I say welcome! You are a welcomed guest. 

I don't have much to say right now, so I guess I should say a little bit about myself. I am a 6'4" african american male. I have brown eyes, a winning colgate smile, and detest all things cute and fluffy. I am generally sarcastic, almost to the point where it gets me into trouble. I'm severely left handed, so much so that anything I do with my right looks absolutely ridiculous. I'm a big fan of day to day covert operations. Nothing too big, they usually involve me hiding behind a corner and ambushing people as they walk by.

I guess that's it, for now. Please feel free to check in and by all means let me know what you think.