I Talk To Myself (part one)
So your boy got invited to a couple cookouts on Saturday. And in typical anti social fashion I didn’t want to go to either of them. I had to talk myself into getting my ass out the house, with help from a couple of my IM/blog friends. I found myself having an internal conversation with myself all day. There’s Anti-Social Jamal (my middle name. I’m not ready to put my real first name out there yet) and Social Butterfly T. Casanova. Here’s how the day went:
T: Yo, son! It’s 11:00 AM. Time to get up. We gotta hit these BBQ’s this afternoon.
Jamal: Give me about an hour. I’m on vacation let me rest.
T: Hell, nah. You know how you are. You gonna be on your computer all day and not get out the house.
Jamal: Okay, let me at least check my email though,
T: You got 20 minutes then its time to get ready.
Jamal arose from his bed and staggered to the computer, which had remained logged in for the last 4 days. Upon opening his Yahoo email, he was surprised to see a number of MySpace requests in his inbox. Jamal didn’t know half of the people and began to have uneasy feelings about it. He decided to investigate. Much to T.’s chagrin, what started as checking out MySpace profiles turned into an hour of blog reading and YouTube watching. T. sprung into action to get Jamal back on track.
T: Get up, Nigga! I gave you 20 minutes and it’s been an hour. Go pick out what you gonna wear.
Jamal: Aiight, man. You didn’t have to call me nigga. I’m going now, let me just…
T: Right now! No more excuses.
Jamal went back to the bedroom to find something to wear. His casual wardrobe was limited, a by product of him doing nothing but going to work. He settled on a pair of jeans and a brown and white Academiks shirr. The shirt was wrinkled so Jamal so plugged up the iron. As he waited for the iron to get hot enough, he turned on the TV and tuned to the World Cup match between Portugal and England. As always, he wanted to root for the team with the most brothas on it, but this match was a toss up. Jamal found himself torn between the two teams and strangely intrigued by a 0-0 match, so much so that he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He watched the entire second half of the match as well as the 2 scoreless overtime periods. By the time the match finally came down to penalty kicks, T. was getting frustrated.
T: You supposed to be ironing, Jamal.
Jamal: I know but let me just finish watching this.
T: Aiight, but then you have to take a shower. And shave that shit off your face. Who the fuck you think you are, Wolfman Jack? That’s not a good look!
Jamal: I got you. As soon as this is over, I’ll get up. *under breath* Sucker!
T: What you say?
Jamal: Huh? Nothing.
Jamal watched Portugal win the match and then tuned the TV to the History Channel. T. should have known what was up; the only time Jamal watches that is when he’s trying to go to sleep. There’s something about the narration that lulls him into slumber. Jamal fell asleep and had a strange dream about the R&B group En Vogue. When he finally reawakened, the display on the digital cable box read 4:17 pm. T. groggily attempted to get Jamal out of the bed.
T: You punk ass muhfucka! How you gonna let us fall asleep? We supposed to be at the cookout now.
Jamal: We still gonna go. You don’t want to be the first one there, do you? Besides you know these things are on CP time. Let me check out the Brazil-France soccer score.
Jamal turned to ESPN to check out the soccer match. He once again found himself getting caught up in the action. He wanted Brazil to win, but when he saw all the Black players on the French squad, he wasn’t too disappointed with France’s victory. Besides, it was an exciting match and it allowed him to procrastinate even further. After the game was over, Jamal went back to his computer to see who was online. He had a brief IM chat with a friend who encouraged him to get his ass out of the house. Jamal resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t wait any longer, so he shaved, showered, got dressed and left the house. He glanced at his watch and it read 6:15pm. T. was not happy at all.
T: Man, we gonna be 2 ½ hours late.
Jamal: Don’t worry about it. They know we are always late. They’ll just be happy we showed up at all.
T: When we get to this spot, don’t be pulling that anti social bullshit.
Jamal: I’ll try, but I don’t know who’s gonna be here.
T: And don’t be trying to holla at Keisha. I know she invited us, but there’s a reason we don’t mess with her no more.
Jamal: T. I remember, you ain’t gotta worry about that. She broke the booty call rules.
T: Damn right. A jumpoff is a jumpoff. Keisha tried to make it more than what it was.
Jamal: I know. But why did she invite us? We haven’t seen her in six months.
T: I don’t know, but she got a man now. So, don’t go disrespecting that.
Jamal and T. arrived at Keisha’s mother’s house after a brief pit stop to pick up some beer. When they arrived, everybody was sitting around eating, playing spades and dominoes and having a good time. Jamal spotted Keisha, sitting under a tree with her 4 year old daughter. The little girl jumped up and ran to Jamal’s arms, and he propelled her onto his shoulders. Keisha got up and introduced Jamal as “an old friend” to the rest of her friends and family.
Keisha: The food is in the kitchen. Help yourself.
Jamal: Thanks, I’ll check it out in a minute. How have you been?
Keisha: Pretty good. You know I didn’t think you were going to show up.
Jamal: I said I’d be here, so here I am. So, is the boyfriend here?
Just then T. interrupted the conversation. Keisha gave some kinda of non committal answer, but Jamal wasn’t paying attention because T. was screaming at him.
T: Nigga, what did we just talk about? Leave her alone.
Jamal: I ain’t doing nothing. Just small talk.
T. Come on, now. I know us. You feeling her out to see if she wants us.
Jamal: Shit, you’re right. My bad, T.
Jamal and Keisha finished their small talk and he made himself a drink. If he was gonna function properly around all these people he didn’t know, Jamal needed to be nice. He sipped his Hennessey and Coke and mingled amongst the guests. Eventually, he found his way into the kitchen to make a plate. Jamal was disgusted by what he saw. The chicken was burnt, the hamburgers were dry and of course the ribs were gone. He put a hot dog, some beans and a couple of deviled eggs on his plate and sat down at a card table in the back yard. Jamal was picking at his food, watching a spirited game of spades when something caught T’s eye.
T: Hey, look at her over there. The chocolate shawty in the orange shirt.
Jamal: She is just our type. Man, look at those lips.
T. Hey, dawg! Don’t fuck this up for us! Go talk to her.
Jamal: Aiight, let me get rid of this nasty ass food first.
T: What you gonna say? Don’t run none of that corny shit like you did last time.
Jamal: I don’t know. I’ll just go say hi and take it from there.
Jamal deposited his half eaten plate in an industrial size trash bag that was tied to the back door and prepared himself to talk to the cute chocolate girl. He made himself a second Hennessey and coke, this time being generous with the Hen and light on the coke. He walked over to her and introduced himself. She smiled and said her name was Nia. Surprisingly the conversation went well. As they talked, Jamal was distracted by T.’s running narration, but still managed to appear interested in what she was saying.
T: She’s about 5’2". You know we like them short.
Jamal: Shut up, T. I’m trying to concentrate here.
T: Peep out the ass. She working with something back there.
Jamal: How I’m gonna look at her ass when I’m talking to her. That’s just stupid.
T: Dawg, You gotta look. Be slick with it, but look.
Jamal took T’s advice and snuck a look. He was impressed with what he saw and decided to linger for awhile. He noticed the smooth brown legs that extended from her tight jean shorts. He followed her legs down to her ankle, which was adorned with a silver bracelet with a charm that read "NIA". She wore orange and white Nikes that matched perfectly with her shirt and no socks. Jamal then returned to making eye contact and dove effortlessly into her dark brown eyes. They continued the getting to know you ritual for about 5 more minutes before exchanging phone numbers and returning to mingle. T. was pleased with Jamal for the first time that day.
T: See, I knew you could do it. She’s the finest girl at this cookout. And we pulled her.
Jamal: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
T. Nah, don’t sell yourself short. You did this.
Jamal: We’ll see what happens. Is it time to go yet?
T: You trying to leave? I thought you were having a good time.
Jamal: It’s not that, but we got that other cookout to go to. And I know the food gonna be good there.
T. Yeah, you right. Let’s go say peace to Keisha and bounce.
Jamal found Keisha and told her he was about to leave:
Keisha: I saw you over there talking to Nia. How you gonna mack at my BBQ?
Jamal: Well, you the one who got a boyfriend now.
Keisha: Yeah, but…
Jamal: But what?
Keisha: He be getting on my last nerve. I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship.
T interrupted the conversation
T: She trying you, dawg! Don’t go for it.
Jamal: What, we are just talking.
T: No, you just talking. She’s trying to get back with us.
Jamal: Whatever, nigga! You think everybody want us. Arrogant muhfucka!
T: You don’t have to believe me but you know I’m always right. (pause) Hey, look over by the porch. Is that Nia dancing?
Jamal: Yeah, what the fuck is she doing?
T: I think she doing that snap shit.
Jamal: Son of a bitch!!! You know we hate that shit.
T: Don’t overreact, Jamal. Everybody ain’t like us. And we are in Atlanta.
Jamal: Dawg, she doing the Poole Palace now.
T: Jamal, chill. She just dancing. Stop being a hater.
Jamal: Dawg, she Shoulder Leaning!
T: Let’s get the hell outta here before Nia totally turns you off. Wrap this shit up, and let’s hit the next cookout.
To Be Continued…
It was written...
T: Yo, son! It’s 11:00 AM. Time to get up. We gotta hit these BBQ’s this afternoon.
Jamal: Give me about an hour. I’m on vacation let me rest.
T: Hell, nah. You know how you are. You gonna be on your computer all day and not get out the house.
Jamal: Okay, let me at least check my email though,
T: You got 20 minutes then its time to get ready.
Jamal arose from his bed and staggered to the computer, which had remained logged in for the last 4 days. Upon opening his Yahoo email, he was surprised to see a number of MySpace requests in his inbox. Jamal didn’t know half of the people and began to have uneasy feelings about it. He decided to investigate. Much to T.’s chagrin, what started as checking out MySpace profiles turned into an hour of blog reading and YouTube watching. T. sprung into action to get Jamal back on track.
T: Get up, Nigga! I gave you 20 minutes and it’s been an hour. Go pick out what you gonna wear.
Jamal: Aiight, man. You didn’t have to call me nigga. I’m going now, let me just…
T: Right now! No more excuses.
Jamal went back to the bedroom to find something to wear. His casual wardrobe was limited, a by product of him doing nothing but going to work. He settled on a pair of jeans and a brown and white Academiks shirr. The shirt was wrinkled so Jamal so plugged up the iron. As he waited for the iron to get hot enough, he turned on the TV and tuned to the World Cup match between Portugal and England. As always, he wanted to root for the team with the most brothas on it, but this match was a toss up. Jamal found himself torn between the two teams and strangely intrigued by a 0-0 match, so much so that he forgot what he was supposed to be doing. He watched the entire second half of the match as well as the 2 scoreless overtime periods. By the time the match finally came down to penalty kicks, T. was getting frustrated.
T: You supposed to be ironing, Jamal.
Jamal: I know but let me just finish watching this.
T: Aiight, but then you have to take a shower. And shave that shit off your face. Who the fuck you think you are, Wolfman Jack? That’s not a good look!
Jamal: I got you. As soon as this is over, I’ll get up. *under breath* Sucker!
T: What you say?
Jamal: Huh? Nothing.
Jamal watched Portugal win the match and then tuned the TV to the History Channel. T. should have known what was up; the only time Jamal watches that is when he’s trying to go to sleep. There’s something about the narration that lulls him into slumber. Jamal fell asleep and had a strange dream about the R&B group En Vogue. When he finally reawakened, the display on the digital cable box read 4:17 pm. T. groggily attempted to get Jamal out of the bed.
T: You punk ass muhfucka! How you gonna let us fall asleep? We supposed to be at the cookout now.
Jamal: We still gonna go. You don’t want to be the first one there, do you? Besides you know these things are on CP time. Let me check out the Brazil-France soccer score.
Jamal turned to ESPN to check out the soccer match. He once again found himself getting caught up in the action. He wanted Brazil to win, but when he saw all the Black players on the French squad, he wasn’t too disappointed with France’s victory. Besides, it was an exciting match and it allowed him to procrastinate even further. After the game was over, Jamal went back to his computer to see who was online. He had a brief IM chat with a friend who encouraged him to get his ass out of the house. Jamal resigned himself to the fact that he couldn’t wait any longer, so he shaved, showered, got dressed and left the house. He glanced at his watch and it read 6:15pm. T. was not happy at all.
T: Man, we gonna be 2 ½ hours late.
Jamal: Don’t worry about it. They know we are always late. They’ll just be happy we showed up at all.
T: When we get to this spot, don’t be pulling that anti social bullshit.
Jamal: I’ll try, but I don’t know who’s gonna be here.
T: And don’t be trying to holla at Keisha. I know she invited us, but there’s a reason we don’t mess with her no more.
Jamal: T. I remember, you ain’t gotta worry about that. She broke the booty call rules.
T: Damn right. A jumpoff is a jumpoff. Keisha tried to make it more than what it was.
Jamal: I know. But why did she invite us? We haven’t seen her in six months.
T: I don’t know, but she got a man now. So, don’t go disrespecting that.
Jamal and T. arrived at Keisha’s mother’s house after a brief pit stop to pick up some beer. When they arrived, everybody was sitting around eating, playing spades and dominoes and having a good time. Jamal spotted Keisha, sitting under a tree with her 4 year old daughter. The little girl jumped up and ran to Jamal’s arms, and he propelled her onto his shoulders. Keisha got up and introduced Jamal as “an old friend” to the rest of her friends and family.
Keisha: The food is in the kitchen. Help yourself.
Jamal: Thanks, I’ll check it out in a minute. How have you been?
Keisha: Pretty good. You know I didn’t think you were going to show up.
Jamal: I said I’d be here, so here I am. So, is the boyfriend here?
Just then T. interrupted the conversation. Keisha gave some kinda of non committal answer, but Jamal wasn’t paying attention because T. was screaming at him.
T: Nigga, what did we just talk about? Leave her alone.
Jamal: I ain’t doing nothing. Just small talk.
T. Come on, now. I know us. You feeling her out to see if she wants us.
Jamal: Shit, you’re right. My bad, T.
Jamal and Keisha finished their small talk and he made himself a drink. If he was gonna function properly around all these people he didn’t know, Jamal needed to be nice. He sipped his Hennessey and Coke and mingled amongst the guests. Eventually, he found his way into the kitchen to make a plate. Jamal was disgusted by what he saw. The chicken was burnt, the hamburgers were dry and of course the ribs were gone. He put a hot dog, some beans and a couple of deviled eggs on his plate and sat down at a card table in the back yard. Jamal was picking at his food, watching a spirited game of spades when something caught T’s eye.
T: Hey, look at her over there. The chocolate shawty in the orange shirt.
Jamal: She is just our type. Man, look at those lips.
T. Hey, dawg! Don’t fuck this up for us! Go talk to her.
Jamal: Aiight, let me get rid of this nasty ass food first.
T: What you gonna say? Don’t run none of that corny shit like you did last time.
Jamal: I don’t know. I’ll just go say hi and take it from there.
Jamal deposited his half eaten plate in an industrial size trash bag that was tied to the back door and prepared himself to talk to the cute chocolate girl. He made himself a second Hennessey and coke, this time being generous with the Hen and light on the coke. He walked over to her and introduced himself. She smiled and said her name was Nia. Surprisingly the conversation went well. As they talked, Jamal was distracted by T.’s running narration, but still managed to appear interested in what she was saying.
T: She’s about 5’2". You know we like them short.
Jamal: Shut up, T. I’m trying to concentrate here.
T: Peep out the ass. She working with something back there.
Jamal: How I’m gonna look at her ass when I’m talking to her. That’s just stupid.
T: Dawg, You gotta look. Be slick with it, but look.
Jamal took T’s advice and snuck a look. He was impressed with what he saw and decided to linger for awhile. He noticed the smooth brown legs that extended from her tight jean shorts. He followed her legs down to her ankle, which was adorned with a silver bracelet with a charm that read "NIA". She wore orange and white Nikes that matched perfectly with her shirt and no socks. Jamal then returned to making eye contact and dove effortlessly into her dark brown eyes. They continued the getting to know you ritual for about 5 more minutes before exchanging phone numbers and returning to mingle. T. was pleased with Jamal for the first time that day.
T: See, I knew you could do it. She’s the finest girl at this cookout. And we pulled her.
Jamal: Yeah, I guess you’re right.
T. Nah, don’t sell yourself short. You did this.
Jamal: We’ll see what happens. Is it time to go yet?
T: You trying to leave? I thought you were having a good time.
Jamal: It’s not that, but we got that other cookout to go to. And I know the food gonna be good there.
T. Yeah, you right. Let’s go say peace to Keisha and bounce.
Jamal found Keisha and told her he was about to leave:
Keisha: I saw you over there talking to Nia. How you gonna mack at my BBQ?
Jamal: Well, you the one who got a boyfriend now.
Keisha: Yeah, but…
Jamal: But what?
Keisha: He be getting on my last nerve. I don’t think I’m cut out for a relationship.
T interrupted the conversation
T: She trying you, dawg! Don’t go for it.
Jamal: What, we are just talking.
T: No, you just talking. She’s trying to get back with us.
Jamal: Whatever, nigga! You think everybody want us. Arrogant muhfucka!
T: You don’t have to believe me but you know I’m always right. (pause) Hey, look over by the porch. Is that Nia dancing?
Jamal: Yeah, what the fuck is she doing?
T: I think she doing that snap shit.
Jamal: Son of a bitch!!! You know we hate that shit.
T: Don’t overreact, Jamal. Everybody ain’t like us. And we are in Atlanta.
Jamal: Dawg, she doing the Poole Palace now.
T: Jamal, chill. She just dancing. Stop being a hater.
Jamal: Dawg, she Shoulder Leaning!
T: Let’s get the hell outta here before Nia totally turns you off. Wrap this shit up, and let’s hit the next cookout.
To Be Continued…
It was written...
posted by Rashan Jamal at 4:00 AM
22 Comments:
hehehehehe
aiight, this was great! i could totally imagine that conversation taking place.
oh, and stop hating on nia. ya shooty bastid.
I'm loving this! I've had these same conversations. And don't completely write off Nia because of this one thing.
lol@pino...no doubt. keisha hating...
lol@you arguing with yourself
"I used to talk to myself, I told him shut the F*ck up" - MF Doom
But dawg, you couldn't tell she was corny when you saw her wearing her NAME? That's a sign. Dudes that wear them belts with their name on the buckle don't even get a chance with me. That's one level down from a personalized tag son. I bet she's gonna be wearing one of those airbrushed zodiac t-shirts on yalls first date.
Jamal is hard on these broads!!! Sometimes ya gotta do what you gotta do and ask Jamal to step to the side so you can smash.
That charm with her name was a bit much though.
@L and TV
Nice MF Doom reference. You know that's my African!
KZ
Okay that was funny as hell. And I know you're not gonna dismiss ole girl just for dancing. Man come on.
I think I need adult supervision
lol@KZed "Sometimes ya gotta do what you gotta do and ask Jamal to step to the side so you can smash."
That reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld where his brain was playing his penis in a game of chess.
@ nikki - as sex deprived as I have been, I need to stop being snooty, right? Oh well Maybe T. can talk me into it.
@ chele - grown women should not be snapping. thats my story and I'm sticking to it. LOL
@ NeGroPiNo/Ill nana - how ill is it? *wink backatcha* but she wasnt cockblocking, she could have if she wanted to though
@ blue butterfli - hey what can i say? I have a very strong sense of who I am, both parts. LOL
@ liquor and tv - I wont go so far as to say corny, not yet, let me feel her out first. Not the airbrushed shirts. You are crazy. LMAO
@ Zed - Its a constant struggle. But the Jamal part of me writes people off quickly. I aint go that far yet, but....
@ Diva (in Demand) - Its not the dancing, its more what the dance signifies. It's kind of a young thing to be doing the same dances that teenagers are doing. Shit, I can be wrong
I say test out her cooking to see if she can serve some cook out food that AIN'T burnt, dry or nasty!!
Man I'm lazy like that too. Most of the time I am not trying to leave my house for nothing. Rather just chill at home. Keisha played herself.
hahaha
yo, i believe everybody talks to themselves. not everybody names the voices tho. lol
and why else would keisha invite unless she was trying to get back in?
lol..that Seinfeld brain vs. penis episode is on now..TBS..lol
LOL
Good Post
Keisha is a straight blocker huh? Let me find out she's tryin to get in the drawls again LOL
*patiently waits for next post*
Sounds like Keisha definitely has a case of the "have my cake and eat it too syndrome." LOL. Don't let the smooth talk fool you, T. or should I say Jamal? LOL.
Good post. Maybe less Henny next time? Just a suggestion. LOL
SRae
YOU SAID you needed a girl. Well here's your chance. Smile.
@ sangin diva - great idea, I mean somebody gotta have a cookout on the 4th.
@ miz jj - I'm fighting that chilling at home thing. I must be naive, cuz I didnt see Keisha that way
@ JennayNay - i have 2 very separate personalities, and I mean that in a non clinically schizo way
@ liquor and tv - I was looking for that on youtube, but they took it down
@ Tenacious - you know how that goes with people trying to get back with you. I read your last post
@ Just me- thanks for stopping through. Again, I must be naive, cuz i didnt even peep out the hate.
@ Scarlett- that was just 2 henny's. Jamal is real life, T. is the blog persona
@ The Goddess - maybe, but I got a bad feeling from that. I been in situations where we have totally different musical tastes and it aint fun.
This is a cute post! Looking forward to part 2! But I'm waiting for the part where Jamal slaps T at the cookout in front of everyone and tells his to shut the fuck up. Now THAT would be comedy!
:-)
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
how come everytime i stop through here, i catch a two parter? i need to start keeping up! lol
i know what you mean about getting on the computer and getting stuck. i am like i'll be a minute and that turns into a half an hour especially when you get the random friend requests on myspace and you have to figure out who the heck these people are!
good post!
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