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These legs get stronger with every hill.

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Owe them not.

Sometimes when people tell me what they hate I want to be the one that says, “So stop doing it.”

KnowwhatI’mtumbout?

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Sometimes you just have to ease back into it…

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Coming From Where I’m From: Backwoods Church (Kids) Edition

  • The first time I ever had blessing oil put on my forehead, I was around 7 years old. I had an allergic reaction that lasted for almost a week. I vowed never to be blessed in that manner again. Amen.
  • I’m convinced my cousin Pat was requesting herself to sing “Oh Happy Day” every 3rd Sunday. She did this rendition where her and Ronnie (the pianist) would start off in a ballad and go into an upbeat version of it. Problem is, Pat ass would start shouting at the same damn part of the song every time. It was so calculated, me and my constituents would do a countdown to her shout and the exact move she was going to bust first.
  • One of the AME churches we would attend didn’t have heat or air in the fellowship hall, yet they always wanted to have first Sunday fellowship in that box. Oh, and the damn stove didn’t work back there either. So we in that piece eating cold ass chicken, stiff spaghetti, iced over green beans and matted up macaroni and cheese. Then they had the nerve to charge you 25 cent for a Big K soda. If you don’t know what Big K is, be forever grateful.
  • Let us not forget the dry ass pound cake and condensed milk soup claiming to be pecan pie.
  • Me and my brother would drop a request in the usher box for Dukes to sing “I Trust In God.” See, Dukes is a classically trained singer and her rendition of that song is so damn over the top, it’s comical. She didn’t know me and Shaun were sending those requests until last year.
  • At the Baptist church, Rev. Hampton had a speech impediment. “World” became “wul” and “flesh” became “flush.” We were kids. We were not shit.
  • One time my cousin and her friends were doing an interpretative dance at a musical but somebody forgot to completely dub over the tape, so immediately after they finished performing “Left, Right” by Drama came on. They started marching to their seats like it was part of the performance.
  • Mattie was always singing lead even when the song didn’t have a lead part. It could be Senior Choir Sunday (every 5th Sunday), but Mattie didn’t care. She said she GONE sing lead today and that’s what the fuck she did. She had more adlibs than Young Jeezy.
  • My great aunt/godmother would get mad if the president of the kitchen committee didn’t ask her to help or fix a dish for any sort of fellowship dinner. I mean she would curse, throw a tantrum, and call everybody in the family if she wasn’t asked to make that salty ass dressing or that tart ass lemon pie. The president of the kitchen committee was her sister.
  • One of the floorboards broke during a church service at the AME church one time. One of the mother’s of the church looked over at it as she walked up for offering and said, “GaaaahhhhhDAYUM! What we usin’ the building fund fuh?!” This was the day I stopped contributing my quarter to the collection plates.
  • My cousin Jerry was the pianist at the COGIC church down the block. One night during a praise break at one of their functions, he fused “Back that Ass Up” with the shout music.  
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The Makings of Me

It is the weekend and I have zero plans.

I am an old man.

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May 17th

Today.
20 years ago.
Flatlined for 20 minutes.
Point blank range in the back of the head.
Exit wound behind left ear.
She was gone.
“No more mom”, they said. 
“She probably won’t make it”, they said.
“It’s probably better this way, as she’ll be no good if she comes to”, they said. 

She texted me this morning: “Today marks 20 years since I was shot. 30% hearing loss to my left ear ain’t half bad.” 

You better get your life, mama! 

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Most of my laughs are brought about by me and are at my own expense.

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My jogs have saved a lot of lives.

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And the question I tend to ask myself every few months or so…

WHY do I keep doing this?

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Coming From Where I’m From: Ed’s First Festival

My hometown hosts the longest running festival in Arkansas. It’s called the Pink Tomato Festival. I think you can imagine what that entails just from the title.

Let’s see, we have a tomato eating contest, a kiddie carnival, horseback riding, mud riding (ATVs or what we just call 4-wheelers), local food vendors…Shit, it’s pretty much what happens every damn day, just four days out of the year people decide to do it together. And can you believe people come from all over the state to attend?

But let’s get into Ed’s first year going. Ed and Dukes had purchased matching cowboy hats. We (Dukes, Shaun & myself) kept warning Ed to wear something loose and to put the hat on to keep from getting burned. Nope, Ed didn’t listen. He wanted to look fly to match his wife. This Negro put on a long sleeve, country Coogi-looking button down, some blue-black Levis and some cowboy boots.

Fast forward to the parade. Dukes left her chair in the truck and we’d parked about 3 COUNTRY blocks away. Her friend had extra chairs so she offered her one. Dukes accepted, but Ed was adamant about going back to the truck to get her chair.

"Baybee, yo’ chair soft with that cushion on it and stuff. Let me go get it." Shaun was like, "Naw, she good. The parade only ‘bout 10 minutes anyway."

The parade starts and ends. In that short amount of time, Ed vanishes. Now, Ed is a tall ass husky man, there’s not enough magic in the world for him to disappear that fast. We were all over the courthouse lawn looking for him. Finally, I decided to go get water from the truck.

Yall, as I was walking up, I saw Ed’s legs dangling out of the backseat.

Rine!: Ed!
Ed: Ohhhh laaawwdddd! Yall tried to tell me. I ain’t listen. LAAAAWWWDDDD!
Rine!: *pours water on his head*
Ed: Yes, baptize me! It’s too damn hot out here. I don’t know how yall do it. Yall kept tellin’ me, say “Eddie, don’t put all them clothes on. Don’tDoIt!” What I do? Put all these damn clothes on. Out here looking like a damn Messcan. I’m finna pass out.
Rine!: Mama lookin’ for you. She wants you to try the onion blossom.
Ed: It’s too hot to be eatin’. I ain’t gone make it Rine!. Let’s drive ‘roun there.
Rine!: Ed, you can’t park up there.
Ed: ….
Rine!: Mt. Carmel has BBQ chicken plates.
Ed: *strips down to t-shirt, jeans and boots* Aight, let’s go.

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Ratchet Randomness

Whenever I’m in a hype mood, I fire up the keyboard and make a 2 Chainz-esqe beat to match my mood. Then I sit there for 2 minutes with my arms folded and shakin’ my head to the beat. 

All of this happens in about 20 minutes.

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911 ‘Mergency

I must have rehearsed my lines…*triple spin*

uh thousand timesssss…*flops on Tumblr couch*

til I had themmm mem-oh-rized *throws head back and props feet on coffee table*

This is the life I live. This is a cry for help.

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I need a blunt.

I woke up this morning and the first thing I thought was “Why?”

My life currently has too many unanswered questions/seemingly unsolvable dilemmas. 

The first question I need to fulfill is why I ain’t got no blunt.

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If it ain’t student loans…

It dawned on me on my way home from work that today was the cutoff for that “dream job” I semi-mentioned awhile ago. I had a feeling things wouldn’t pan out as hoped, so the impact wasn’t as profound. (Instead of drinking a shot of bourbon and watching ratchet TV, I’m eating 270 calorie dark chocolate Tahitian Vanilla Caramels.)

Then I get to the house and I had done got a medical bill for blood work.  Chile, that hoe was $525.90. Do you hear me? This is in addition to the $98.15, $135.26, and $85.94 balances I had paid something on. Now, having bills ain’t no thang over here. That just comes with the territory, but I read that part up under all them big ass numbers: “Patient is not covered by insurance.” My alter ego Chris beamed down and put fire to the flame.

Honey, I work in the medical field and can’t afford insurance. Naw, let me put you on the real deal. I work in the medical field and I pay dues to a union of which I am not qualified. This same union offers insurance where they have met the cap enforced by the provider, so they do intake based on seniority. I ain’t got no damn insurance.

Hell, for $525 I could have did my own damn blood work and had filet migtofu and imitation lobster tails with the change. So nah I (See: Chris) done got mad and decided I ain’t payin’ nobody a muthalovin’thang. They can go join the cocktail social around my credit report. Better yet, I’m going to send them a dollar every month. (Because just in case you didn’t know, in most cases if you’re paying something on your medical bills, there’s nothing they can do/say.)

Sh*t if I didn’t pay the $98 bill, whotheyfinnathank gone pay a $525?

Chile, Bye. 

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Truth Is…

I haven’t felt like doing anything lately. “The holiday season” is still touchy for me and I find myself anticipating mid-February and trying to pump the breaks at July.

I have quite a few rainchecks out there and a lot more to hand out…