Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Another Edition of "HumanityCritic's Asshole moments"
I know that embracing your inner asshole might not endear you to friends, loved ones, or perfect strangers, but just imagine how many years you'd add to your life if you just blurted out whatever came to mind. I know that the right thing to do would be me keeping my thoughts to myself, but just imagine the huge weight that was lifted off of my shoulders when I told a couple that I'm cool with recently "Will you two do something about your brat already?? Jesus Christ man, the little motherfucker is running around like you keep his ass in a cardboard box all day. My dog died 2 years ago, I have a leash if you want one!" I know there is a certain etiquette when it comes to being on the Internet, and that I should act accordingly, but just imagine how much I enjoy going to ex-girlfriend's myspace pages, or the pages of women that I briefly dated and leaving a messages under the picture of her and her new boyfriend that reads, "You have got to be kidding!! You're fucking this guy! This motherfucker looks like he grew up next to a nuclear power plant, if I knew you had such low expectations I wouldn't had ordered that extra cheese on your burger." Even though I enjoy being nice to people and a bona fide decent human being, I also have to highlight some of my most recent asshole moments. Here are a few.
One of the "Golden Girls": The people who run the bar that I go to probably think that I go there because I enjoy the people that frequent there, that I go there because I have become the black equivalent to Norm from "Cheers" since they shout a brother's name in unison when I enter, they might even think that I go there because I love the shit out of karaoke and that unmistakable inbred ambiance that is felt as soon as you walk through the doors. Nope, that bar is my favorite watering hole because its close to my house and I don't want a D.U.I, and if worse comes to worse I can always walk my chubby ass home.(Lord knows I need the exercise, I'm about a sandwich away from never seeing my cock again) Anyway, there is a white lady who has to be around 50 years old who likes black men, I only know her preference in men because she has drunkenly told me so about 20 times already. Usually when I've been on the business end of this information I politely smile, say "that's nice", and go about my business of ruining my liver. Sure I've thought about trying to ignore the smell of Ben-Gay and drunkenly getting orally serviced by this broad, but when I think about the repercussions, people finding out, women not coming within a 20 mile radius of my penis because I fucked a chick who survived the Titanic voyage, I quickly dismissed that deviant thought. So a few days ago, for like the millionth time she said to me, "I just wanted to tell you that I really like black men!!" That is when I regrettable said: "You know, even if I had the ability to bend the space/time continuum in an 85' DeLorean and go back 20 years, I'm not certain that I'd even fuck a younger version of you. Not for nothing, but I have a rule about not fucking women who could legally drink when I was born."
Just call me Blade on Ice: Even though I'm a lifelong Hip Hop aficionado, love chocolate women with round hips and full lips, and am very secure in my blackness, I have to admit that I grew up doing things that unfortunately are considered "white" like skateboarding, playing air guitar in my room and pretending that I'm Robert Plant, and oppressing people.(Just kidding about the last part) So you would think that when my friend Frank approached me with the idea of playing Hockey with him that I'd be open to the idea, but I wasn't. For one thing wearing winter gloves and freezing your ass off isn't exactly my idea of fun, I had never worn Ice skates before, and when hockey highlights come on ESPN I either change the channel or use it as another opportunity to "rub one out"(masturbate). But for some reason or another, against my better judgment, I found myself on Frank's team in this extremely cold hockey rink. I don't know what it was, possibly my history of being quite skillful on roller-skates to the point that I could skate backwards and do the splits and shit back in my heyday, but ice-skating came naturally to me. Then we started playing, the only instruction I was given was to not hold my stick too high and to ram people, so for the next few minutes I was ramming more white men into walls than a years worth of NASCAR accidents. Dude, I wasn't even trying to score, putting punishing hits on motherfuckers and saying to them "Don't get up motherfucker!!" just made my year.
I was having the time of my life until I noticed that an extremely big guy and Frank had squared off in the middle of the rink and were getting ready to fight. Even though I saw people clear out and everything, how was I supposed to know the proper hockey etiquette, I didn't know that you were supposed to let them fight for a while. Shit man, Frank is my boy and he was getting his natural white ass handed to him like a hip replacement, so I did what any friend would do and went over to the guy he was fighting and hit him a shitload of times with my hockey stick. Sometimes I felt like "Blade" as I chopped him in the body like I was wielding a samurai sword, and other times I felt like a lumberjack based on how many times I was chopping this motherfucker. After a plethora of blows, people telling me to leave the guy alone, Frank trying to pull me off of the gentlemen, and my hockey stick breaking in 3 places, I finally realized that I was in the wrong. As I was ushered out of the hockey rink and noticed the guy that I had just beaten writhing on the ice in pain, I got the sinking suspicion that I wouldn't be asked to play hockey again.
HumanityCritic, the car stereo thief: Growing up my father thought I was forever up to no good because of the actions of a dude who wasn't really my friend at all, a career douche-bag named Lamont. See, Lamont was a wannabe thug who scared everyone but me, and through a mutual friend we would hang out occasionally. I didn't really like him, especially since I would always hear second hand stories about how he was going to jump me at some point, but I knew that he was a vaginal secretion so I didn't pay him any mind. Anyway, I asked my father if he could take me and my friends(Lamont included) to this teen club one night, usually my father would have gave me the mighty middle finger but since he put a brand spanking new stereo in his car I guess he wanted to flaunt it to somebody. My old man takes us, we have a good time, and that's that. That's until we wake up the next morning and the stereo in my old man's car is gone, and as much as my father openly wondered if it was my friends or not, I KNEW it was Lamont. Until the day he died, based on the act of a dude so far removed from being a friend of mine that not only wouldn't I piss on him if he was on fire I wouldn't even attempt a watery shit stole my old mans stereo system, my father always felt that I wasn't any good based on the "criminal element" that I hung around.
Suffice it to say I have harbored some negative feelings for Lamont all of these years, but based on his drug use and his lengthy vacations that he's taken in our finest correctional facilities, I have only seen him about two times since 1989. Scratch that, three times. See, I was walking to my car one night when I saw the man in question, Lamont, getting out of his car and walking to the club that I just left. I quickly got out to say hello, greet him in some way, but that little devil popped on my shoulder and said "Don't speak to his ass, that's the guy who stole your father's radio, remember??" That's when I waited for him to get inside the club, grabbed a huge rock, smashed his window, and proceeded to steal his radio with the accuracy of a crackfein with a pawn shop on his itinerary. Granted, by me throwing the stereo out of my car a mile down the road proves that I didn't want it, it was a little payback for something that has haunted me for years. Yes, its sad that I'm getting revenge for something that happened 18 years ago. And Yes, its even sadder that this little episode happened last week.