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This and every Thursday night at 11PM EST/10PM CST.

Tonight's topic is "The Truth About Cheating" and you know I'm going in.  
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When It Hurts So Bad!

I was thinking the other day and I must admit it made me laugh. Why is it when our relationships fail and we lose the love we thought would last forever, we try to find the most hurtful, gut busting, heart-wrenching songs to play over and over and over again? It’s like we want to relive the break up every 3-4 minutes through someone else’s story. Or 5 min and 09 secs if your playing it’s Brian McKnight "Kiss Your Love Goodbye” .

I know I’m not the only one who’s laid in an empty bathtub, wearing a pair of the draws he left behind, on a hunger strike, listening to Sade. Belting song lyrics through nonstop sobs, contemplating downing the bottle of bleach arms length away, just so the pain can end. Okay maybe that was just me but you feel what I’m saying.

Then, as if you weren’t already swimming around in an emotional cesspool, one of your friend drops by with a mix of the songs they listened to the last time they had their heart broken like a suicide soundtrack. What they’re basically saying is:

“If you really want to feel like sh*t listen to this. Okay, I’m leaving now and I Ieft a rusty razor right next to you, okay? I’ll check on you tomorrow. Have fun!”

I'm wondering... Do we secretly take pleasure in the pain of heartbreak? Do we listen to these songs because we find comfort in knowing somebody else has had their a** kicked by love? Do we suggest painful songs to friends as a shared experience or is it sweet revenge because we’ve told them “You need to stop messing with that fool,” over a million times but they never wanted to listen? Then they’re calling you at 3 am like “you won’t believe what he/she did,” like you didn’t have work the next day.

Yeah I’ve been there on. Both sides.

So I’m sending this one out to everyone who’s had their heart broken or if you’re going through it right now. My suggestion is get out of those old draws, put some water in that tub and wash away your stale a**. Dig deep and paint on a smile, turn on some feel good music and feel good because life is still beautiful.
(Repost from former Blog for your enjoyment)

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NYC on the LateNight

Last Night (this morning) I found myself in the club Quo (28th and 10th Ave). A cute spot but the dirtiest bathrooms I've ever seen in my life, HANDS DOWN! I hit the bar immediately because the drinks I had earlier were fading fast and I wanted to "stay on the 53rd floor." The bartender comes over, takes my order then proceeds to mix one of the worst drink I've had in a long time. I could tell by the way he nervously tipped the bottle over the glass like he was afraid to pour too much Iiquor which led me to believe the drink would to be worthless. I took a sip and my assumptions were confirmed. The drink was so weak it wouldn't give a infant fetal alcohol syndrome even if you served it to him straight.
So I say to the bartender "I can't taste anything." Then he proceeds to inform me that he could make the drink stronger IF I gave him a tip.  Tip? TIP? First of all, a tip is courtesy from me to you. It's a way to say "thank you for your consideration and going beyond the call of duty. For example, a cab driver getting you to your destination in a timely fashion despite heavy traffic, a bellhop taking your heavy luggage to your room despite the fact elevators are out or a messenger waiting 20 extra minutes while you package up what you want him to deliver. If you're doing your job regular then what you're getting paid covers that. You get tipped when you do your job great just because you showed up to work. That's your job asshole!

SYAU Blagojevich!

Over the past year I've noticed that people have lost the racist filter which helps them filter the disrespectful things they would normally only say around other people of their race. Black people calling White people "Honkies" at the fish fry. White people calling Black people N***as on the golf course (with or without Tiger Woods around). And Middle Easterners talking about everybody right in their face because we don't know what the hell they're saying on that cell phone while we ride along in the back of that cab. These days everybody is saying whatever they want and they don't care who's around to hear. 

Just today, Associated Press reports that ousted Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich (the dude that tried to sell Obama's Senate seat) stated:

"I'm blacker than Barack Obama. I shined shoes. I grew up in a five-room apartment. My father had a little laundromat in a black community not far from where we lived."  
Read Full Article. 

Really? So let me get this straight because he lived in a small apartment, that's supposed to make him black? So is he saying all black people live in sub par conditions because that's what hearing? And he said he shined shoes. So we're supposed to agree that he's black because of this? Why? Because that's the kind of work black people do: shine shoes, open doors, and carry luggage. So black people are servants because that's also what I'm hearing? Now let's explore the final part of his statement: the laundromat in the black community was NOT FAR from your house.  You know what that means. His family didn't live in the hood. His father just set up shop there. Probably with some overprices machines that barely cleaned your clothes and a spin cycle that never really got the water out so you had to use another machine to respin your clothes to get out the access? Then at the end of the day he slammed that metal gate down, locked the 37 locks on the door and burned rubber to the other side. What's next? He's black because he got fired from his job? FYI, ex Governor, all that puts you about as close to being black as me living near Sea World makes me a dolphin.

Someone please tell Blagojevich that nothing about his life makes him black because at the end of the day he's white and he's never in life experienced any the racism, fear and overall contempt that President Obama indured just in the 2 years of campaigning. 

So take you're medication and SYAU (Shut Yo Ass Up) Blagojevich! You'll never be black and you should be happy because if you were you're ass would have been jail mates with Michael Vick, T.I., Lil Wayne and Plaxico Burris for conspiracy to commit mail and wire fraud and solicitation of bribery.

Are You Eff'n Serious?

It’s was another day of surfing the web in search of the latest headlines, horoscopes and words of encouragement, when I came across what sparked the title of today’s entry that I will be incorporating into my Blog in the future. It’s a lil something I’d like to call:

Are you Eff’n Serious? 
Michael Jackson Memorial nominated for Outstanding Variety Television award by NAACP Image Awards 

Foreal, how did this happen? Was one of the mentally impaired people that every company is required to hire, given the opportunity to choose a winner for this category (also apart of the equal opportunity requirements)? Or maybe it was a big snowstorm and the only person in the building was the janitor who had not quite gotten his GED yet, and the nominations had to go out right that moment leaving the task in his hands and unfortunately he didn’t know that Memorial is another word for Funeral. As in Loss. As in Eye on the Sparrow.

Now, I understand that we are seriously under represented on TV but it’s hard for me to believe there was nothing else to nominate? No Celebrity Comedy Roast? Old Sold Train episodes? Hell, I would have been okay with a high school talent show that aired on some Public Access channel. Not a damn funeral! FYI, that big shiny box they had up front wasn’t a podium for a midget, Michael Jackson was in there!

To be fair I can see how they could have been confused especially with Usher’s “emotional” rendition of “Gone To Soon” which he ended by snatching of his sunglasses and reaching for the casket like it was suddenly rolling away. Then there was the dramatic Usher/Jackson family hug, and who can forget Usher burying his head in Kathryn Jackson’s lap like he was a contestant in a pie-eating contest. You know what, now that I think about it, I’m taking everything I said back. This whole thing is Usher’s fault.

Seriously though, this nomination was a horrible call by the NAACP and if this is the kind of decision making going on over there it's not wonder black people never got reparations. I'm just saying NAACP, in the future if you find yourself grabbing at straws over who to give an Image Award to just remember, you can always give it to me.

Why?

We all talking about what's wrong with the kids: They're over sexed from the TV, the music, the steroids in the food is making their hormones rage. Well clearly none of that is the issue the problem is us. The Adults because some adult gave the green light to this performance and judging by the faces of the little boys in the crowd there's going to be a lot of dirt towels and socks in the laundry basket later.