A Vacation In Hell…Uh..Paradise

To say I was excited was a gross understatement. This trip to Hawaii was supposed to be a dream vacation to paradise and it would have been had I chosen to go alone or with another group of people. I will preface what I am about to say with I love my family but I don’t necessarily “like” them. I find that I like them less and less with the passage of time.

My vacation pictures shows smiling faces with an idyllic backdrop but what it does not show is the lost luggage, bad attitudes, spitefulness, bitterness, irresponsibility, immaturity, and ungratefulness.

A financially irresponsible sister relying on an insurance claim, which was denied, to fund her vacation started a chain reaction. My sister has a long history of financial irresponsibility and expecting someone to bail her out. That someone, in most cases, has been our mother. This time was no different.

Swooping down to the rescue, mom, whom I’ve secretly renamed “Captain Save-A-Ho”, pays for my sister’s portion of the hotel room which means she has no money for extra activities like tours, luau, etc. My auntie, who so desperately wants to attend a luau, suggests to me that if I pay my mother’s way, she’ll cover my sister. I replied, “NO”. I had the means to do so but I refused to do so, on GP.

Mean? Nope, not at all; self preservation and tough love. I also decided not to go snorkeling or jet skiing because I didn’t want to feel guilty about going and others not being able to go also.

Pair that with the airline losing my aunt’s luggage and you have a recipe for nothing short of a disaster. She griped the entire time about this and how she’s never using a buddy pass to fly again, in essence taking digs at my sister, the airline employee who provided said buddy pass.

As you can see, I’m with a stellar group there in paradise.

The most painful thing for me was coming to the realization that my mother has allowed herself to become stuck in a perpetual state of bitterness and misery. There have been many instances where this has been apparent to me but none as memorable as what happened in the airport on the way home.

My mother had a knee replacement about a year ago and still suffers with pain and limited range of motion with that leg. She had been in slight pain as evidenced by her limp but was managing it with daily doses of Aleve. At the Honolulu airport, we made the unfortunate choice of sitting on a row of seats where passengers formed a line to board the plane. A young lady accidentally kicked my mother’s foot (the bad leg). Mother grimaced and vocally let it be known it hurt. The young lady proceeded to apologize.

After the young lady had taken a few steps away from us, my mother mumbles, to my horror, “Sorry, doesn’t stop the pain.” I touch my mother on her arm and proceed to assure her that I was sure the young lady didn’t willfully hurt her and her apology was sincere. Mother repeated her statement with sheer indignation. My response was a simple question, “What ever happened to being gracious?”. She had no response other than a scowl.

My vacation wasn’t all it could have been but it wasn’t all a complete bust. We did visit Pearl Harbor and the USS Arizona but most of my time was spent getting tipsy on Waikiki beach and “drunk texting” pictures of me in my bikini to a male friend. Even though alcohol is not allowed on the beach, I did manage to sneak in my personal cocktails. My goose-n-juice salvaged what would have otherwise been a completely miserable experience.

Most times I try to keep a positive outlook even in the most negative situations; always looking for the lessons so I dare not find myself re-living the same mistake again.

My vacation to Hawaii was chock full of lessons:

• I will never travel with my family again. NEVERRRR!!
• I can not save everyone no matter how desperately I may want to do so.
• “Tough Love” hurts all parties involved. Although very necessary, it still hurts like hell.
• Although I look like my mother, I don’t have to be “like” her.

Next trip, Trinidad for Carnival. Family not invited.

The King of Pop: From Pariah to Pious

You’ve heard the old saying that you don’t speak ill of the dead, right? Well, I’m tired of holding my peace.

It seems, this not speaking ill of the dead, is being played out now surrounding the death of Michael Jackson. That or muthafuggas have sipped a little too much of the gatdayum Jim Jones kool-aid. Whatever the case – logic and reason have been tossed out of the window.

While I understand how many people choose to focus the accomplishments of MJs career, because he did make history and the musical genius could never be denied, I quickly burned out on the media coverage.

Oh…the hypocrisy of it all.

How many of you thought MJ was a perverted pedophile with identity issues prior to June 25th, 2009? Would you trust him around a young boy you loved? Your young son, nephew, or cousin?

Yes, I know MJ was acquitted of all charges in 2005 but it does not mean that muthafugga wasn’t GUILTY. People tend to live their lives in a state of denial despite the flagrant truths that are right in their faces. People don’t want to believe that someone can be, on one hand, very charming, intelligent and talented… but yet also diabolical on the other. It would take a diabolical bastard to build an amusement park in his back yard to lure young boys. Remember the story of the Pied Piper? Same concept, different tools.

But it takes a particularly sick fugga to allow young boys to sleep in his bed who are not his sons – sick with ill-intent. What well adjusted grown man does this?

Just recently video was released of MJ defending his actions with the assertion he was following the teachings of Jesus to love the children and be childlike. ORLY? I found this to be laughable at best and insulting at worst.

I’ve read the articles and blogs defending MJ and going as far as to call any mention of his “alleged” transgressions and obvious perverted behaviors a “demonization” to which I couldn’t disagree more strongly.

Al Sharpton flapping off at the gums stating the media wants to destroy MJs legacy. Well I hate to tell you, ya flat iron hot-combing pulpit pimp, but a part of that legacy is his panache for young tender boy booty meat. Oh, and the moment Al Sharpton opens his mouth to defend any issue/cause, said issue/cause loses all possible legitimacy and credibility.

In the video linked here, MJs former manager, Bob Jones, didn’t deny allegations of Michael’s relationship with an under aged boy. His responses are both disturbing and chilling (22:29 mark in the video). Watch the video..it’s long but it does offer some food for thought.

View the video HERE.

This guy, and many others in MJs camp, played a part in the continuing evolution of MJs perversion by turning a blind eye and a deaf ear as many of his fanatical fan base is doing today in the wake of his death.

Before he died he was considered pariah but now he’s pious? Deity, even?

BULLSHIT!!!

One Daddy, One Father – Twice Blessed

In honor of Father’s Day, I am reposting this. Happy Fathers Day! 6/21/2009

It was my 16th birthday when Mom told me about my biological father - it wasn’t the man who raised me, Daddy. At that point, it all made sense. It answered the question of why I did not see my face in the face of my paternal grandmother nor the faces of my cousins. I didn’t seem to “fit“. No one in the family dared say a word to me.

Even though my face did not “fit” in the family photos, I did not feel out of place nor unwanted. You see, I was Daddy’s favorite and he spoiled me rotten. My grandmother love and doted on me as she did all of her grandchildren. It was she that took me to my first day of kindergarten. I was tied to her apron strings.

This news made no bit of difference to me nor about how I felt towards my family. It did not make me long to meet the man who planted the seed. If he didn’t want to be in my life, it was his loss not mine because I was loved and well cared for – I wanted for nothing. So imagine my surprise when, at the age of 28, Mom calls to say she has located my biological father and he wanted to speak with me. I was heated!!! Hot as fish grease!! How dare she try to force this man on me, into my life. “I have a daddy dammit and don’t need another one!” I remember yelling into the phone at her before I hung up. I didn’t speak to my mother for 2 weeks.

After two weeks of crying, praying, and crying some more, I called Mom with my blessing to give the “biological” my phone number. That first conversation with Mr. C was overwhelming. He explained the reason for his absence which aligned with what Mom had told me over the years. I still wasn’t ready to let my guard down though. Hell, it was going to take more than just one 2-hour conversation to get to me, especially after 28 years! We agreed to keep in touch and were ending the call saying our “good-byes” and “talk to you laters” when he said “I love you“. “How can you love me? You don’t even know me!”, I replied. Mr. C responds, “Because you’re mine.” I wept uncontrollably.

To this day, I cannot adequately explain the emotions I felt at that moment.

Two weeks later I was debarking a plane at Chicago’s Midway Airport to meet my biological father for the first time. On that trip, I also met my older sister & brother, 2 nieces (one could be my twin), 1 nephew, an aunt, and a host of cousins.  My sister said, while giving me a big bear hug, “I always wanted a sister.” Each and every one of them were warm, loving and welcoming – so much so that I was again overwhelmed. I saw my face in each of their faces. I fit!

Their only question was why I waited so long to reach out to them. I explained that although I had known since I was 16, I didn’t feel a need to contact them because I had a family that loved and accepted me – a daddy, a grandmother, and a host cousins, aunts and uncles.

My biological father and I talk regularly. I still call him Mr. C, much to the chagrin of Aunt Doll, his sister - she thinks I should call him “daddy“. But he understands and that’s all that really matters.

I had a daddy. I have a father. I am tremendously blessed.

In memory of  my daddy, W.J.M. 12/4/1934 – 1/21/1997

Why Men Don’t Marry

A good male friend emailed the following article to me. He informed me that he engaged in some heated debate over it, mostly from emotional baggage carrying females.  I, in turn, shared it with a female friend who, like me, didn’t get bent out of shape but rather agreed and acknowledged the author made some very good points.

I am posting the article here for discussion purposes. Feel free to voice your opinions.

I think there is a lot of disenfranchisement out there i found this on that “Men going there own way” website, it’s long but i think it conveys how some men feel today;

“The non-lawyer half of the InstaCouple says this:

“Nowadays, for many men, the negatives of marriage for men often outweigh the positives. Therefore, they engage in it less often. Not because they are bad, not because they are perpetual adolescents, but because they have weighed the pros and cons of marriage in a rational manner and found the institution to be lacking for them.”

I think women don’t understand how clinical men can be when it comes to analyzing a relationship. (Note: just because we don’t talk about our relationship with you, doesn’t mean we don’t analyze it.)

Here’s how I explain it. I think that men keep a running ledger going in their subconscious—all the good/great things about their relationship on the one side, and all the bad/terrible things on the other. At some point or another, if the perceived negatives outweigh the positives, the man will quit the relationship—I mean, just bail out of the whole thing—and usually with a swiftness and finality which confounds women.

Because we’re guys, we don’t talk about this much—even, or especially with other men, and hardly ever with women. But it’s a plain fact.

Now, because we’re guys, certain things have a disproportionate effect on both the good and bad things: on the good side, sex, food and shared interests being probably the best examples; on the bad,infidelity, constant nagging and invasion of privacy constitute the negative. The degree of each, good or bad, will vary among individual men, of course. Some men will put up with almost anything if the sex is of the “bed on fire” variety, for instance, while others will walk out of a relationship for something as trifling as compulsory weekly visits to Mom (hers).

Frankly, it doesn’t matter what these things are. What’s important is that they are each weighed, and applied to the ledger. And when the negatives consistently outweigh the positives, the man will say (to himself), “You know what? This isn’t worth the hassle. The hell with it.”

And once that decision is made, the relationship is over. Now, it may take a long time for all that to happen. Men are not accounting machines, and this is not a daily, or even a regular process. But it takes place in every man, sooner or later, when the negatives get too much to live with.

What’s interesting about all this is that as men grow older, the process becomes a lot quicker—mostly, it should be said, because younger men can put up with almost anything if they’re getting laid. As men get older and sex becomes less important, however, the “bullshit” factor and the tolerance thereof become more important.

I am not interested, incidentally, in hearing the female side of this. The topic is “why men are putting off getting married”. Here’s why.

All the great advantages of the women’s liberation movement have created an environment which, frankly, does not leave men with much. We can’t flirt with women at school, college or at the office anymore, because one man’s “flirting” has become another woman’s “sexual harassment” and the punishments for such transgressions are not only severe, they’re permanent—crippling a man’s career and prospects thereof.

When a woman can get pregnant outside wedlock, and still hound a man forever for child support (with the enthusiastic support of the State), is it any wonder that men, even though ruled by their sex drive, might actually step back a little and think with their heads? And once married, if a divorce becomes a later reality, he stands a real risk of losing access to his kids forever, because if Milady is feeling vengeful—and most do, in a divorce—the merest suggestion of “endangerment” or “violence”, and he is completely screwed, forever, even if the allegation is a complete falsehood.

I am not denying, by the way, that men have brought a lot of this on themselves. But remember, men are more clinical about relationships than women are. It is an absolutely certainty that men read all the news about some guy losing his right to own a gun just because a spiteful ex-wife filed a nonsensical claim of “abuse”, or guys getting ruined because of an intemperate offhand comment at the office, or even, good grief, getting hit up for child support after having been an anonymous sperm donor—and ask: ”Looks like the rules are all in her favor. Remind me: what’s in this ‘marriage’ thing for me , again?”

And the fact that women have become more sexually liberated doesn’t help matters. The old saw is true: why would a man go to the trouble of buying, stabling and feeding a cow, when milk’s available at the supermarket?

Remember: the early post-adolescent years are the time in men’s lives when they are most ruled by their sex drive. If the drive can be constantly sated by willing women, can anyone be surprised that when the sex drive starts to fade in importance, men look at all the other parts of a relationship, and find that the game just isn’t worth the hassle?

At ages 19 to about 27, men are at their most vulnerable for marriage, because the nice thing about married sex is not that it’s necessarily great, but that it’s pretty much always available, without too much work involved.

But if during those early years women don’t get their hooks into a man soon enough, the job becomes progressively harder as the man ages. So if women spend those early adult years building themselves a career and “fulfilling themselves” at the expense of getting married, they will find that when they do finally want to settle down and get married, men are no longer as welcoming as they were before.

And the foundations of all that were put down when women tried to stop men from being like men. Even with sex involved, men will always apply “The Ledger” to a relationship. Without sex, men are, quite simply, unwilling to put up with all the shit that a woman brings to the party. And when men feel that the dice are constantly loaded against them, they’ll simply refuse to play the game, at all.

None of this, incidentally, applies to the lucky men and women who found their soulmates—but I have to tell you, life isn’t much like the deliriously-happy couples on eHarmony.com. For every blissful couple in the ads, there are literally millions for whom a relationship is not a joy, but a wearisome chore.

What feminism hath wrought is simple: if men are to treat women as equals, then they will treat them like men—or at best, they will not treat them like women.

One more time: I’m not interested in hearing The Other Side Of The Story from women. We’ve heard little else for the past thirty years. The question was: why are men getting married later, if at all? This post is the answer, and women should not be shocked by its conclusions.

The saddest part of this is that all things being equal, most men actually enjoy being married, and look forward to it. It’s nice to have someone to come home to, someone with whom you can just be yourself, and someone to share the wonderful joys of having kids. And don’t kid yourselves, the sex is great. A buddy of mine, married to his childhood sweetheart for over twenty years, put it to me this way:

“A lot of the time, the sex [between longtime marrieds] is fine, or just so-so. But every once in a while, it’s fantastic, tremendous, brilliant, and better than you could ever ever get from a stranger.”

The men who are resisting being married are cutting themselves off  from all this—and women should ask themselves why this is the case, without  resorting to the “men are just refusing to grow up” bullshit.

They’re not refusing to grow up: this is the reaction to the constant belittlement and the infantilizing treatment they’ve been exposed to all their lives. “

So….what say you?

When An Apology Really Isn’t An Apology

I was on my way to church and there were two cars ahead of me in the turning lane Sunday morning. The pickup truck was #2 in line, the Protoge’, #1.  The arrow turns green and it takes Car #1 at least 30 seconds to proceed but not before I honk my horn.

We’re now on the two lane street, all three vehicles that were at the light. The pickup truck driver has had enough of the slow poke driving Miss Daisy and passes car #1 illegally. Yes, I followed suit.

No biggie. Done deal. At least that’s what I thought until I pull into the church parking lot and park.

“You really don’t want that truck, do you?”, she says loudly. “Excuse me?”, I respond with a puzzled look on my face wondering why my fellow choir member is asking me this bizarre question.

She proceeds, “Had I been a police officer, I could have pulled you over“. It then clicks…it was her in Car #1whom I had passed a few minutes earlier. “Oh, had you been a cop, I wouldn’t have passed you“, I respond with my smart-assed tone reserved for such incidents where I’m being chastised by someone who has overstepped the line.

Head tilted to the side, I just look in disbelief  as girlfriend continues to chastise me about my driving. I said nothing but I am certain the look on my face read “Bitch, please.” For once in my recent memory, I held my tongue. However, I was pissed but I decided to let it go. I wasn’t going to let the incident ruin my morning.

Later in the afternoon I check my email only to see a message from miss choir member lady. She was attempting to apologize but it fell short. If your apology to me includes a “But”, it really isn’t an apology but rather an attempt to justify your disrespectful behavior.

From: ****
Subject: With Love
To: Chocl8t
Date: Sunday, May 3, 2009, 8:37 AM

Chocl8t, First of all I want to say I apologize for blasting you out in front of my passenger. As I drove up I and saw your face before you saw mine and I could see that you were troubled. Please don’t let your mind be so preoccupied that it takes you away from the real deal.

First of all, I was not “troubled”. I was only preoccupied with getting around your slow driving ass.  Here it is..the “But“…

Wait for it…wait for it…

That red truck had been pushing me for awhile and if they had waited at least another 10 seconds I would have pulled over in a safe area and the both of you could have passed. I don’t have a problem bowing down. I would rather bow down than to buck up. Bucking up takes the situation father than you had plan to go.

So in essence, your were already pissed off with the driver of the truck and since you couldn’t get to him I was next in line. You didn’t approach me “With Love” as the email was titled. Your ass needed to vent and I was available.

When I saw your car and license plate I thought back to our conversation at D**** Studios. You said, “You really wish you did not have that truck.” I thought to myself she really meant that because Chocl8t is driving that truck like she does not want it.

Nooo, that isn’t what I said. I said it wasn’t the most sound financial decision I made. But I love my truck. Everyone who knows me, knows I LOVE MY TRUCK. But I understand how you couldn’t quite recall that conversation with accuracy at the moment because you were PISSY with the truck driver and me for passing your Driving Miss Daisy ass a few minutes earlier.

Be careful baby. You don’t want to lose the truck and a limb or your pretty face or your life trying to get some where fast. I am just ministering to you with love.

Sincerely,
S*** M***

Save your spiritual in the name of Jesus line for someone who can’t recognize bullshit when she sees it. Oh, and I’m not your dayum ‘baby’.

And another thing…stop trying to hide behind God and Jesus with your shitty behavior. He sees you and so does everyone else.

MmmKayThanks. Buh-bye.