So It's Been A While...

She doesn't do windows.

As I'm making a way too late PB&J I suddenly begin to think about Mrs. Doubtfire, naturally, and how truly fucking dumb it is. So, we are suppose to believe that even after Jonathan Lundy, the head of the TV studio place, finds out that the odd dinosaur rapper stock boy is actually a cross dressing sociopath that's mentally scarring his children and frigid ex-wife plus, not to mention, the attempted man slaughter of Pierce Bronson, we are suppose to believe, that he then went on to green light his after school children's show? Would Uncle Frank and Aunt Jack be accomplices when they took him to trial?

And so again it seems that it was a lot easier to get a job in the 90's.

DONATIONS FOR ROD'S BIRTHDAY TRIP

2 Days Too Late But Why the Hell Not!

She started Soul Train with only a

glue stick, glitter and a limbo stick

I forgot to mention while it was still Black History month a touchy subject but I figured since it's now boring old Women's "Her-story" Month a.k.a. March that this post could very well work too. Gone are the days of women being forced to stay at home while being degraded. Now they are free to join the workforce and make sex tapes with hip-hop stars. I'm just saying that bitches have come a long way. So, please, ask me why that with all the advancements that women have made, especially black women, that they would go and let three assholes set them back to the days of mammydom. Of course, I am talking about Tyler Perry, Eddie Murphy and Martin Lawrence.

"I'm a good father."

The three of them have made a career out of dressing up in drag as fat black women to relative success. They are all multiple offenders. I think the Mrs. Doubtfire craze resonated and made it possible for them all because, as we all know, sassy black women are a hell of a lot funnier than deranged middle aged fathers pretending to be an old British woman so he can "play" with his kids. Mmhmm. All and all, when it comes down to it, I blame Eddie Murphy for starting America's love affair with tucked black penis.

"Sherman, Sherman, Sherman!"

Eddie really kicked off the movement with his multiple characters in the Nutty Professor. The only character he didn't play was that fat hamster. He played Sherman's force feeding mother and his foul-mouthed, sexually charged trashbag, er, I mean grandmama. To make matters worse, he goes on to make two more movies about that family of bowling balls. I mustn't forget his role as Raspusha in the movie Norbit, where Eddie made women proud to be fat, sassy and bikini-ready. Who the hell greenlighted this? I bet Maya Angelou crapped her Depends undergarments over this.

"How YOU doing?"

Oprah knew Gale would love this two piece on her.

Next we have Tyler Perry. Sheesh. That fool sure does love throwing his name out on the beginning of any damn movie or TV show he does. Tyler Perry 's This. Tyler Perry's That. Here's a good one, Rodrigo Reyes's Fuck off Tyler Perry. Out of all the fat black shemales, his is the worst. I'd like to think that I'm a good judge of character, well, physically that is. At least Martin and Eddie slap some latex masks on when they degrade themselves. All Tyler Perry does is put on a wig, glasses, lipstick and two sandbags for titties and voilà, Madea tranny trainwreck. How YOU doing?

Diary of an Angry Black Turd.

Lastly, we have Martin Lawrence. I know that there are a million things that I can say wrong about Big Momma like how she has Tyra Banks style calves but I'll refrain because I feel like out of all the 40something black dudes dressing up as women, he has the most integrity. A real air of sophistication. Martin gets a reprieve from my shit talking because he did something truly golden back in the 90's and that was the character of Shaneneh. Below is a clip of Shaneneh doing her thing.

That poor beach whale as seaweed on its head!

Go 'head now!

There is a lesson to be learned from all these he-shes and it sure ain't how to plug a weave properly. If there is anything to be learned from this, it is that black men want to be sassy old black ladies if only to ruin their reputations. With that said, honorable mention goes to the Wayans Brother for their award winning performance in White Chicks.

Dicksy Chicks

BHM2011

I had stated that earlier this month that I was going to reminisce about my all time great moments with people of color, rather, my black history. Trust, there are some whoopers or, in honor of black history month, some Whoopis. Some funny and some downright depressing. so I think to avoid the nickname Rodrig-woe, I will stick to the lighthearted moments. Sort of like watching the Cosby Show but with the neighborhood mexican kid.

Where's Sondra?

Many moons ago, my mom, Mary, decided to throw caution to the wind and get caught up in the radical movement of interracial relationships that swept the early 90s with such movies as Made in America, Jungle Fever and The Bodyguard starring my girl Whitney. I never thought Mary was one to purchase a "swirl" cone but sure enough before I could say NAACP, Curtis "Moe" McKinney became a regular around our household that eventually moved in. Here are some descriptors for Moe:

-loved cookouts

-didn't smell regular

-loved hot links

-had children named Reggie, Tyron and Mokey

-loved eating wings and never shared

-all around jackass

the Whoopster!

I really disliked him. It really had nothing to do with race or how his eyes seemed yellow sometimes but it had everything to do with him going out of his way to embarrass the shit out my sister and I when we were growing up. He would drive us to school in his '87 Chevy Jalopy and honk the horn the whole way to get everyone's attention and then dump us off in front of West Elementary School to be stared at like circus freaks. It sort of felt like the Scarlet Letter but in this case it was a black "A" which stood for affirmative action.

All of this came flooding back to me when I was lucky enough to catch the Khloe Kardashian and Lamar Odom commercial for their new fragrance Desegregation. It reminded me of how grossed out I felt whenever Mary and Moe would be affectionate with one another. It's really not that surprising that my short busty 65 year old Latina mother does in fact remind me of that Armenian transvestite linebacker Khloe Kardashian. If only Mary would have landed a basketball player instead of a roofer.

Unbreak my bowels

Random January Pictures

My girl, Lauryn Hill, tearing it up at the Farm.

Big tittied black chick flashing that cash and a hint of class.

Lauryn Hill being incredible as I drunkenly zoomed.

Great tree on Wentworth Street that seemed mermaid-esque but more knotty than your average Ariel.

Great head on Highway 61 at the Architectural Salvage, tell your Aunt Frank.

Old Skool Monkey wielding a banana and a club foot.

La India Maria above the urinal at TB2.

Lime Blue on the King Street.

Grace Church on Wentworth Street made me stop and say AMEN!

The Southern landscape: Four Loko in a parking lot.

Heart

& Soul

Squirrel opener con antique shakers.

The only movie Molly Ringwald didn't star in in the 80's...or did she?

Rostrich.

Hot Haikus Horseface

After an awesome workout late this afternoon, I decided to partake in a ritual that dates all the way back to 2002 in McClintock Hall at ASU. There is nothing like a cold beer in a hot shower, especially during this nasty winter storm that has crippled the Southeast. Beer in the shower makes me want to watch Arrested Development but more importantly, Tobias Funke with his never-nude ways. To commemorate this occasion, I decided to write a haiku.

I sip you slowly.

Cold Coors Light against my hand.

Hot water feels good.

Dentures

Let's just say that Olga Ooze from a recent Polident commercial inspired me.

This is the best one but it couldn't be embedded so click the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd5gm-xa710

Change!

Penny for your thoughts?

So, one night, many moons ago, the ex and I took a bunch of ne'er-do-wells with us to the Rogue, South Scottsdale's premier dive dump. As Shelley used to say, "This dump smells like Tracy Gold's bathroom." We used to take our under age friends there for drinks and what have you. Anywho, one day we were leaving the bar and a homeless man approached us. I wish I could say that he was selling magazine subscriptions or at the very least girl scout cookies but, alas, he was asking for a handout. So, as we rushed to get into the car he asked if I could spare some change. My response was short and sweet, "Can you break a hundred?" Sounds fucked up, yes, but if he would have said he could then I would have done it.

Religious Networking with God In Your Alphabet Soup

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Buddhas In My Belfry

Last night, I couldn't get to sleep. It didn't help that there was a Law & Order: SVU marathon on USA. Damn that Mariska Hargitay and her crime fighting ability. So after deciding that enough was enough, I climbed into bed and stared off into darkness, like so many nights before, when I was suddenly surprised by an unexpected friend. I turn on the bedside lamp and I see a bat flying around. I must admit that I was a bit of a pussy about the situation and immediately threw the blanket over my head. I didn't want to get rabies. The only thing I needed was to start this year off by foaming at the mouth.

So, I continued to squirm under the covers thinking of how I was going to get this fat out of my room. I periodically peeked out to see where the damn thing was and to look for something that would help get it the hell away from me. Afraid that it were going to strike at any moment, I reached out and grabbed the first book I could on the bed stand. My plan was to use the book to hit the bat. I really didn't want rabies. As I got ready to lurch out from under the blanket, I saw that the book I was holding was The Lotus Still Blooms, a book about understanding Buddhist principles. Something told me that there was probably a lot of bad karmic retribution to be had if I killed this damn thing, especially with a Buddhist book.

Goodbye...

2010, you have been quite the year. 2008 wasn't the best. It was one of my worst years in recent memory accompanied by 2003. Then 2009 came along and everything felt like it was going to be a better time and it was and it did. I won't do 2010 the injustice of putting it in the same category as 2003 and 2008 but it was an awesome year filled tough realities. Needless to say, I am enjoying the brief moments I have to sit down and write and pet my cat and think.

With hours left in this year, I caught myself rushing around to Brooks Brothers for a bow tie and then to buy wine and couldn't help but notice that I was sweating. With December being a relatively cold month, I was surprised, pleasantly, that today has been such a warm and beautiful day, hence the sweat. I stopped to take a moment to sit with Audrey and scratch her head when I realized that with all my rushing around waiting for another day to come to an end that this cat was oblivious to the frenzy that humans are putting themselves through. There is something completely gratifying about that. I should be so lucky to have such simplicity at some point in my life.

So now, I sit here alone and await the dinner party that will be filled with couples and me, the only single. How's that for simplicity? I suppose I deserve that. I was told once that I shouldn't live my life feeling that I regret anything I have done. The actions I take govern how I see and feel. This, I feel to be true. I will say this about this year, that I do regret losing a great friend. So now the countdown begins and I have to make my new beginnings in a new house and zip code. Maybe I'll love 2011. I will have to wait and see.

Fuck You Sylvia Browne.

The Oracle of Delphi. Nostradamus. James Van Praagh. Rasputin. When the great psychic powers of the ages come to mind these are the ones that are typically thrown out there. And if you were to ask a certain Mr. Montel Williams, he would throw out the incomparable Sylvia. Sylvia Browne that is. She's the world's only psychic walrus that can chain smoke with acrylic nails glued to her flippers.

Will the real Sylvia Browne, please stand up?

Walter Mercado

Surpisingly has a penis.

The other day, I was Facebook stalking my friend Soraya and got to thinking of all the good times we used to have back in the day making fun of Sylvia Brown and Walter Mercado, a Univision astrologer known to most latinos that should know better. I can not for the life of me understand how the hell lunatics that look like Bruce Vilanch in drag and a Puerto Rican Liberace get into the mainstream like this? It may be safe to say that they both might be good at blow jobs. How else explain the television exec that let this happen? Because we all know that pie eating contest winners are known for their panache, their joie de vivre, not their psychic abilities. How else?

As a young tyke, I remember coming home in the summer time, after night swim (a.k.a. the summer babysitter) to find my mom watching the Montel Williams show. I was never that big of a fan of Montel. Something didn't seem quite right with him. Maybe it was his penchant for white women or maybe it was that eight ball look he was rocking. Couldn't quite get my finger on it. In any event, he couldn't hold a candle to my girl Ricki.

Once hosted a show entitled "Back Off! You're a Lesbian.."

With topics from "Black Men Who Prefer To Date White Women" (Montel) to "Cut All the Drama, You Ain't Nuthin But a Fat Hoochie Momma" or "Weave Wars II", who could resist. One of my all time favorite show titles though, has to be "Girl You Must Be Trippin'...You're Too Fat To Be Strippin'". And who could forget the doorbell? Every time you heard that doorbell ring on the Ricki Lake Show, you knew some shit was going to hit the fan. Go Ricki, Go Ricki!

I've seemed to have gotten off track. Anywho, back to Montel. I blame him for unleashing that beast onto the world. Apparently, Montel would do anything for white pussy, no matter how decrepit and dusty. Now here are some videos of Sylv at her finest.

Merry Christmas Claire Slover

Barf Slover using her landline in the rain

The Grinch Theme Song

You're a fat one, Mrs. Grinch.

You really like to squeal.

You're as cuddly as a cat's mess,

Your virginity, no one wanted to steal, Mrs. Grinch

You're a black banana with a greasy black peel.

You're a monster, Mrs. Grinch

Your butt is a big hole.

Your vagina's full of spiders,

You've got garlic in your soul, Mrs. Grinch.

I wouldn't touch you, with a black guy's nine-and-a-half inch pole.

You're a large one, Mrs. Grinch.

You can't even walk a mile.

You have all the tender sweetness

Of a crusty old pedophile, Mrs. Grinch.

Given the choice between the two of you I'd take the crusty old pedophile.

You're a foul one, Mrs. Grinch.

You're a nasty, wasty cunt.

Your cunt is full of unwashed cocks.

Your snizz is full of gunk, Mrs. Grinch.

The three words that best describe you, are, and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Cunt."

Christmas Pussy

Spread 'em Tommy!

Two thousand and ten years ago, a virgin and her husband hauled ass into Bethlehem to give birth to the king of jews, or so the story goes. Luckily for me the WE Channel's idea of holiday inception was to play the classic Big staring Tom Hanks and Elizabeth Perkins because nothing says christmas like two average white poeple. Everyone knows the story of Big. unless, you were born and raised under a rock before 1995. The movie is basically the tale of a 12 year old boy who wishes to be "big" and in turns becomes an adult who gets an executive position at a toy company and gets to do an older woman. It's sort of like the Mary Kay Letourneau story but more romantical and with a magical fortune telling machine and less statutory rape.

Tom Hanks' character Josh is likable enough for someone you want to put in a station wagon and drive into a lake. After his rat faced friend makes him feel bad for being awesome he goes and pusses out. Cue the sad music and send him around town, walking around aimlessly like a pedophile staring at all the kids about town wanting to recapture his lost youth. Waa waa. In that same lame boat is also Susan, played by Elizabeth Perkins. The only interesting aspect of her character other than her 80's fashion a la Designing Woman was her ability to fuck her way up the corporate ladder.

Style Stars

But, by far, the best character is Josh's butthole best friend Billy. He is one of the biggest pussies in all of movie history. right up there with any Pauly Shore character and Charlie from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. He also played the asshole little brother in Honey I Shrunk the Kids. For some reason, this little punk can't be happy that his ONE friend is an adult raking in the big bucks and wants to cry because he doesn't want to play walkie talkie with him. If there was ever a reason to advocate childhood physical abuse, it was that kid. It was like whoever green lighted the movies Frankenhooker and Cannibal Holocaust must have given him a break. Thank god that kid never went on to star in anything else other than a Wal-Mart surveillance video.

Being puked on helped him get off.

University Square Apartments

This song just came up and Pandora and it reminded of painting my room red, jigsaw puzzles during the 2004 Democratic National Convention, gravity bongs during the Olympic opening ceremony in Sydney and Char's thai food. Thank god those fucking cavemen in that Geico commercial didn't ruin this song for me.

"Röyksopp - Remind Me" lyrics

(chorus)
Will remind, will remind, will remind me,
Will remind, will remind, will remind me,
Will remind, will remind, will remind me,
Will remind, will remind, will remind me.

It's only been a week,
The rush of being home in rapid fading.
Prevailing to recall
What I was missing, all that time in England

Has sent me aimlessly,
On foot or by the help of transportation,
To knock on windows where
A friend no longer live, I had forgotten.

(chorus)

And everywhere I go,
There's always something to remind me
Of another place and time
Where love that travelled far had found me.

We stayed outside til two,
Waiting for the light to come back,
But hid in talk I knew,
Until you asked what I was thinking.

(chorus)

Brave men tell the truth,
A wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles,
A woman holds her tongue,
Knowing silence will speak for her.

So now I'll never know,
As you will only sleep beside me,
And everywhere I go...

(chorus)
(repeat)

It's only been a week,
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
The rush of being home in rapid fading.
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
Prevailing to recall
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
What I was missing all that time in England
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me.)

Has sent me aimlessly
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
On foot or by the help of transportation,
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
To knock on windows where
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me,)
A friend no longer live, I had forgotten.
(Will remind, will remind, will remind me.)
(chorus)

Funny Shit on the Nanny/Fuck Hallmark Channel

You learn something new everyday or so it is said. Today, I learned the french word decollete while watching, of all things, the Nanny. I've been forced to watch the Nanny late night on Lifetime because Hallmark Channel thought it would be in the holiday spirit to crush mine by removing Golden Girls reruns from their nightly line-up. I still find myself flipping to channel 47 in the hopes that there isn't some made-for-TV abomination starring some washed up has been soap star of yesteryear. At least play a good made-for-TV movie like Death of a Cheerleader starring Tori Spelling as a popular girl (clearly fictional) that gets killed for being the kind of bitch you want to stab in your mom's station wagon, you know the kind.

Take that Donna Martin!

Quintessential Jewish mother, Sylvia Fine

Anywho, back to what I was talking about. Sylvia, Fran's mother, is up to her usual hi-jinx of trying to get Fran to land herself a successful man. In the process of doing so, Sylvia attempts to hike up Fran's skirt to advertise the goods for her new rich doctor boyfriend. Along with that piece of motherly advice, Sylv tells her to "show some decolletessen". Just the sound of the word decolletessen, which, by the way, is not a word and that she pronounces day-c0ll-eh-tessen. What she is alluding to is the word décolleté which means the bust or meat pillow region. Naturally, she throws her master yiddish spin on it by combining décolleté and delicatessen, a store to buy meats and such. Pure genius! So, I guess the only thing left to say is, MISTA SHEFFEILD!!!!

Black Swan

Monday is typically my day off of work and I had a pretty good idea of what I wanted to do with part of my day. Before the Price is Right, I sent out a text to a few friends to see who was up to take in a little matinee delight. Sadly, Barf was sick but thankfully Mere was game. The two of us had been talking about going to see Black Swan for quite some time and today was going to be the day.

First off, HOLY SHIT! This has to be one of the best movies I have seen in a very long time. Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers is sure to win just about every best actress award that she will be nominated for. From start to finish, this movie is hauntingly magical and almost didn't want it to end. Can't help but feel extremely troubled for Erica Sayers played by Barbara Hershey of Beaches fame as the terrifyingly dominating single mother. You can feel the anxiety that the character gives to Portman's character the entire movie. I mustn't forget to mention Winona Ryder as the tragic dying swan. Ryder's scene with Portman in the hospital is burned into my brain. HOLY SHIT. This movie sure as hell beat watching that stupid Sandra Bullock movie I caught earlier today on HBO called All About Steve. Now that was a shit show!

Happy Birthday Hayley

So a few weeks ago, on a Sunday, Nathan came over so he and I could go out and have a drink because I was in sore need of liquor after my drunken nap that consumed most of my evening. We went over to Nathan and Hayley's apartment, in the ghetto no less, so he could change clothes and get an herbal refreshment. I immediately beeline it to Hayley's bedroom where I find her bundled up in bed watching bravo and a fresh US Weekly to boot. We have tons of laughs on account of my delirium and whatever shit-show Bravo is showcasing at that given moment, whether it be hordes of famewhore housewives, a Dr. Phil lookalike matchmaker or even a smart ass haircutting lesbian alien named Tabatha.

Scissor me timbers

"Have yous seen my aquanet Joe?"

Patty, from Millionaire Matchmaker

All joking aside, we came to the conclusion that one star in particular was not shining to it's full potential. I'm not talking about that culinary snooze-fest host Padma or that over accessorized elderly chipmunk Rachel Zoe. Of course, I am talking about Sweetie from the Real Housewives of Atlanta. Sweetie is Kim's assistant/friend/slave. Clearly, I have the wrong job because Sweetie seems to be living the high life, fancy polyester weaves and Kim's palatial duplex at her disposal. Hayley and I decided that someone needed to start her a fan page on facebook. Following an extensive image search I came up short on photos I had to nix the endeavor. So in honor of Hayley's day of birth, I decided to post some pictures of Sweetie and Kim working.

Sweetie getting her sweat on.

All in a hard day's work. Who says that GEDs aren't the way to go?