Black Thought II
The trials and tribulations of a 23-year-old college student who in his head thinks he's already a star in the journalism world. Ok, ok, maybe not a star...
I thought with school ending I would have more time to write on this thing but it has been the total opposite.
I have actually had less time than before and I feel like I have neglected my blog.
I'm still waiting for a good subway story to blog about - you know it's only a matter of time before I get on the subway car with the guitar player who has no arms and only a right foot or the guy who decides to pleasure himself in front of others.
But so far, nada. Nothing. Zilch.
I promise you one soon, but until then...
... with Memorial Day yesterday, it's not just the unoffical start to summer but also grilling season.
With that said, I think I'm ready to take my food skills to the outside.
It's been a year now since I really started cooking on a full time basis and thanks to my great teachers in Rachael Ray and G. Garvin, I think I have jumped leaps and bonds and made great progress.
Hell, I even have a signature dish.
But who doesn't enjoy BBQ - because of where I was living last summer in Denver, I didn't have the room to BBQ.
But now I have access to a backyard and a grill so who knows how often I will be grilling.
Actually the one thing that deterred me from cooking on the grill was just lighting the fire. But I didn't realize they made Light and Burn bags...
I tackled hot dogs and hambergers yesterday while I had to deal with the Boomers that were passing through.
Next up - boneless chicken breasts.
By August, I want to tackle ribs.
Cooking has slowly become threapy to me. It used to be music but somewhere along the way, I seemed to outgrow that. Now oddly enough spending time in the kitchen seems to be doing the trick...
Ironic for the person who can't eat half of the stuff out there and chooses not to eat the other half that's left ... but hey...whatever works...
I have actually had less time than before and I feel like I have neglected my blog.
I'm still waiting for a good subway story to blog about - you know it's only a matter of time before I get on the subway car with the guitar player who has no arms and only a right foot or the guy who decides to pleasure himself in front of others.
But so far, nada. Nothing. Zilch.
I promise you one soon, but until then...
... with Memorial Day yesterday, it's not just the unoffical start to summer but also grilling season.
With that said, I think I'm ready to take my food skills to the outside.
It's been a year now since I really started cooking on a full time basis and thanks to my great teachers in Rachael Ray and G. Garvin, I think I have jumped leaps and bonds and made great progress.
Hell, I even have a signature dish.
But who doesn't enjoy BBQ - because of where I was living last summer in Denver, I didn't have the room to BBQ.
But now I have access to a backyard and a grill so who knows how often I will be grilling.
Actually the one thing that deterred me from cooking on the grill was just lighting the fire. But I didn't realize they made Light and Burn bags...
I tackled hot dogs and hambergers yesterday while I had to deal with the Boomers that were passing through.
Next up - boneless chicken breasts.
By August, I want to tackle ribs.
Cooking has slowly become threapy to me. It used to be music but somewhere along the way, I seemed to outgrow that. Now oddly enough spending time in the kitchen seems to be doing the trick...
Ironic for the person who can't eat half of the stuff out there and chooses not to eat the other half that's left ... but hey...whatever works...
Summer is right around the corner.
Last night, we got our first good Thunderstorm in New York. Usually, this would go unotice by anyone else.
But oh how I feared the thunderstorm as a kid.
Boomers, as I used to call them, scared the holy crap out of me.
My excuse is coming from Los Angeles, we hardly got rain let alone boomers.
And as a kid, I would spend my summers out in New York and feared the days when the grey clouds would roll in during those warm, muggy afternoons.
I would post the pictures of me as a kid, hiding under the dinner table in tears. But I'm sure you have a visual already.
This problem of mine went on for many years - I can't tell you exactly what age I finally outgrew it but I am sure it was well into my elementary school years.
Even last night, I found myself jumping up a couple of times while I was watching TV in the attic.
I had to remind myself that I'm a grown ass man - no need for the flinching.
Guess some things you never grow out of...
Last night, we got our first good Thunderstorm in New York. Usually, this would go unotice by anyone else.
But oh how I feared the thunderstorm as a kid.
Boomers, as I used to call them, scared the holy crap out of me.
My excuse is coming from Los Angeles, we hardly got rain let alone boomers.
And as a kid, I would spend my summers out in New York and feared the days when the grey clouds would roll in during those warm, muggy afternoons.
I would post the pictures of me as a kid, hiding under the dinner table in tears. But I'm sure you have a visual already.
This problem of mine went on for many years - I can't tell you exactly what age I finally outgrew it but I am sure it was well into my elementary school years.
Even last night, I found myself jumping up a couple of times while I was watching TV in the attic.
I had to remind myself that I'm a grown ass man - no need for the flinching.
Guess some things you never grow out of...
How does all of that lose to Taylor Freakin Hicks?Leave it to the country that voted Dubya back into office to vote for a pre-mature graying 29-year-old who rolls with the "Soul Patrol."
This is why I don't watch American Karaoke...
UMass: Finally, a Final 4
Yes, that is my name attached to a sports story. It had been way too long since I last wrote one.
And Lacrosse of all things...
Who says I'm not well rounded...
Yes, that is my name attached to a sports story. It had been way too long since I last wrote one.
And Lacrosse of all things...
Who says I'm not well rounded...
Two black journalists lost their lives this week in which has been a tragic week for the journalism community.
The first being Julie Bailey who dropped dead at the Columbus Dispatch on Monday.
The second one though really hit home for me at least.
Dacia Dunson was a copy editor at the Baltimore Sun who passed away after a battle with Colon Cancer at the age of 33.
33, people.
No, I didn't know Ms. Dunson or ever had any contact with her.
But when I saw the words "Colon Cancer" and "33" it really hit me.
As I was reading her obit, I came across a piece she wrote before she passed that dealt with her illness.
She had a paragraph in there which would be a dead ringer for what I was experiencing except of 6 months, it was over a year I had felt this way:
I had gone to the emergency room three days before. My gastrointestinal doctor had met me there. I had been having stomach pains, diarrhea and constipation and was throwing up. I'd lost weight and was anemic. I'd been having these symptoms off and on for about six months. My doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong.
Luckily my doctors found Crohn's instead of a tumor logged inside my colon but the similarities were a little too scary.
Because of my health situation, I pay close attention to anything that affects the colon or the rest of the digestive tract.
The one thing I took away from reading her struggle was life's not promised for anyone on this world.
If this could happen to a once healthy woman at the age of 33, what's there to say this couldn't happen to me or someone else I know at an even younger age.
Scary.
Like the Mighty Mos said - Shine Your Light On The World...
The first being Julie Bailey who dropped dead at the Columbus Dispatch on Monday.
The second one though really hit home for me at least.
Dacia Dunson was a copy editor at the Baltimore Sun who passed away after a battle with Colon Cancer at the age of 33.
33, people.
No, I didn't know Ms. Dunson or ever had any contact with her.
But when I saw the words "Colon Cancer" and "33" it really hit me.
As I was reading her obit, I came across a piece she wrote before she passed that dealt with her illness.
She had a paragraph in there which would be a dead ringer for what I was experiencing except of 6 months, it was over a year I had felt this way:
I had gone to the emergency room three days before. My gastrointestinal doctor had met me there. I had been having stomach pains, diarrhea and constipation and was throwing up. I'd lost weight and was anemic. I'd been having these symptoms off and on for about six months. My doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong.
Luckily my doctors found Crohn's instead of a tumor logged inside my colon but the similarities were a little too scary.
Because of my health situation, I pay close attention to anything that affects the colon or the rest of the digestive tract.
The one thing I took away from reading her struggle was life's not promised for anyone on this world.
If this could happen to a once healthy woman at the age of 33, what's there to say this couldn't happen to me or someone else I know at an even younger age.
Scary.
Like the Mighty Mos said - Shine Your Light On The World...
True story: Senior year of high school, I am reading the Sports Page on the school bus like every morning and it was just after the MLB Amature Draft.
In the back of the newspaper they listed the Dodgers and Angels selections.
I'm skimming through them to see who could be the next Mike Piazza and Eric Karros and I come across a Brian Barton, Westchester HS.
I didn't know the guy at the time but the fact that he went to Westchester HS stood out to me because at the time, my Dad was teaching over at 'Chester.
Three months later I am in a week long scholarship program and as I'm flipping through the names, I come across a Brian Barton.
Coincidence? I think not.
It was the same guy, who declined the Dodgers offer and decided to attend school at Loyola Marymount.
Being the huge baseball fan that I am, I paid extra attention the following Spring when baseball started and would check up on his stats.
He was struggling to say the least - I think he hit under .200 that season.
The next summer I see him and he's wearing a University of Miami t-shirt.
"You transfered?"
"Yup, going to walk on the team"
I had my doubts at first. I was just hoping he would get playing time because the "U" is a baseball powerhouse.
He did quite well for himself to say the least, hitting .330, 7HR's, 54RBI's.
On top of that, Miami made the College World Series so I got to see Brian on TV.
I was really just watching to see if they mentioned the scholarship program we were both involved in - I don't think they ever did.
Anyways, to make a long story short and to make it not seem like I'm riding his jock (cuz I'm not, I'm just really proud of him) he was drafted by the Cleveland Indians and is in the minor leagues.
Last summer he was playing for a team in Ohio and I had plans on seeing him as I made my drive across the country but he was promoted and sent to North Carolina.
I check his stats every few days and he's in the process of a 20 game hitting streak for the Kinston Indians. On top of that, he leads the Carolina League in batting average and HR's - which hopefully means he's on his way to a promotion to AA.
Keep making the rest of the scholars and Taylor proud, Brian...
More on Brian
In the back of the newspaper they listed the Dodgers and Angels selections.
I'm skimming through them to see who could be the next Mike Piazza and Eric Karros and I come across a Brian Barton, Westchester HS.
I didn't know the guy at the time but the fact that he went to Westchester HS stood out to me because at the time, my Dad was teaching over at 'Chester.
Three months later I am in a week long scholarship program and as I'm flipping through the names, I come across a Brian Barton.
Coincidence? I think not.
It was the same guy, who declined the Dodgers offer and decided to attend school at Loyola Marymount.
Being the huge baseball fan that I am, I paid extra attention the following Spring when baseball started and would check up on his stats.
He was struggling to say the least - I think he hit under .200 that season.
The next summer I see him and he's wearing a University of Miami t-shirt.
"You transfered?"
"Yup, going to walk on the team"
I had my doubts at first. I was just hoping he would get playing time because the "U" is a baseball powerhouse.
He did quite well for himself to say the least, hitting .330, 7HR's, 54RBI's.
On top of that, Miami made the College World Series so I got to see Brian on TV.
I was really just watching to see if they mentioned the scholarship program we were both involved in - I don't think they ever did.
Anyways, to make a long story short and to make it not seem like I'm riding his jock (cuz I'm not, I'm just really proud of him) he was drafted by the Cleveland Indians and is in the minor leagues.
Last summer he was playing for a team in Ohio and I had plans on seeing him as I made my drive across the country but he was promoted and sent to North Carolina.
I check his stats every few days and he's in the process of a 20 game hitting streak for the Kinston Indians. On top of that, he leads the Carolina League in batting average and HR's - which hopefully means he's on his way to a promotion to AA.
Keep making the rest of the scholars and Taylor proud, Brian...
More on Brian
How Well Do You Know Me
Even all you downlow readers...
Rhee, anything less than a 90 is unacceptable.
Even all you downlow readers...
Rhee, anything less than a 90 is unacceptable.
The Hater, himself, Star, was fired yesterday for these comments on DJ Envy. When I was interning in Bristol, I had one of the interns calling me Star because he thought we had things in common...you will be missed....take your show over to XM Radio.
No, let me just touch on this real quick. There's a woman out there right now who pushed out a little lo-mein eater by a DJ [at NY radio station Hot 97]. I got at this alleged slut whore, heh, and this little half a lo-mein eater. And yes, I disrespected your seed. If you didn't hear me, I said, I would like to do an R. Kelly on your seed, on your little baby girl. I would like to tinkle on her.
Call the cops? Nigga, please, there's no bodyguards. I carry the nine [millimeter handgun]. Most of the cats that are with me, have felony convictions, they can't carry. I'm disrespecting your seed. I would like to skeet on the face of your seed. Now that's real talk dawg. You have to come holla at me now. Call me, I'll meet you somewhere, but don't act like you were waiting in some parking lot with like 50 niggas. Please.
Now, again, to the woman, who carried that little mongrel for 9 months. I'm coming for your seed. Did you hear me? I want to do an R. Kelly in the mouth of your seed fam.
You holla at me now I'm the easiest man in the world to find. And my name is The Hater. You holla back now DJ Envy.
I got suckered into watching the David Blaine special the other night.
Not because anyone forced me.
I'm just a fan of bad TV.
Bad TV and the idea of a death of TV.
The whole idea was for Blaine to hold his breath in a giant snow globe filled with water for nine minutes while trying to free himself from chains.
Which geinus at ABC decided that "Hey, this is a great idea for May sweeps."
The ratings sucked - 9.9 million folks yet they were #1 for kids between 2-11.
If you have a kid between 2 and 11, do you really want to let them watch a shrivled grown man holding his breath under water until he turns blue?
If I were 2 and saw that, I'm going straight to the bathtub and trying the same thing.
Hell, I probably did at one point. It would explain my fear of water for the longest time.
As you already know, Blaine was almost two minutes short of the record. At around 6:30, I'm watching and just having a bad feeling about this whole stunt.
I was just waiting for Blaine to turn blue and ABC cutting away to "My Wife And Kids" while they have to drag David out of the snow globe.
But the entire two hours I wasted watching was worth it when they cut to Blaine's brother in the audience, a kid Rhee and I know as Bukalo.
A guy who I didn't meet prior to him coming to my 21st birthday dinner where brought me a bottle of Jose Cuervo - so he's OK in my book.
But they cut to Bukalo, and I had heard that they were brothers but I thought maybe they were just joking.
If I didn't know him, I would have assumed Blaine was black...tell he doesn't have the black.....
Not because anyone forced me.
I'm just a fan of bad TV.
Bad TV and the idea of a death of TV.
The whole idea was for Blaine to hold his breath in a giant snow globe filled with water for nine minutes while trying to free himself from chains.
Which geinus at ABC decided that "Hey, this is a great idea for May sweeps."
The ratings sucked - 9.9 million folks yet they were #1 for kids between 2-11.
If you have a kid between 2 and 11, do you really want to let them watch a shrivled grown man holding his breath under water until he turns blue?
If I were 2 and saw that, I'm going straight to the bathtub and trying the same thing.
Hell, I probably did at one point. It would explain my fear of water for the longest time.
As you already know, Blaine was almost two minutes short of the record. At around 6:30, I'm watching and just having a bad feeling about this whole stunt.
I was just waiting for Blaine to turn blue and ABC cutting away to "My Wife And Kids" while they have to drag David out of the snow globe.
But the entire two hours I wasted watching was worth it when they cut to Blaine's brother in the audience, a kid Rhee and I know as Bukalo.
A guy who I didn't meet prior to him coming to my 21st birthday dinner where brought me a bottle of Jose Cuervo - so he's OK in my book.
But they cut to Bukalo, and I had heard that they were brothers but I thought maybe they were just joking.
If I didn't know him, I would have assumed Blaine was black...tell he doesn't have the black.....
I have nothing to blog about...
This is rare...
So I'll just say Lakers suck and keep it moving....
Kick...Push...
This is rare...
So I'll just say Lakers suck and keep it moving....
Kick...Push...
And it's on to Game 7.Reason #1 why I dislike the East Coast.
It's 1:46AM and the game just ended.
I can't be staying up like this to watch the NBA Playoffs...
The 9 months of volunteering for Big Brothers/Big Sisters culminated last night at a Volunteer Appercation Dinner out in the middle of Long Island.
I was tempted not to attend because it was 30 miles away and I was feeling lazy but I pysched myself up for the hour drive and got in the car.
My real motivation was free food and open bar though.
I normally don't drink but if you knew the kid that I had to deal with each week, you would have a drink too.
Two drinks at that.
So I get there and I'm like I'll have one drink and call it a night.
I order a Cranberry and Vodka and as I'm watching the bartender pour the vodka in, I'm thinking to myself "Oy."
I took like two sips and I couldn't taste the cranberry juice at all.
Straight vodka, yo.
Since it was open bar, I passed my drink on to another Big and go back to a different bartender.
This time, a Sex On The Beach.
"Easy on the liquor, please" I tell the bartender.
"Yes, yes, I'll make it real sweet."
Lies.
Wasn't nearly as strong as the Cranberry and Vodka but still strong.
So I take my drink and cocktail hour is over so we head towards the dinner table.
It was mostly Hofstra students and then two other older people also joined us.
I introduce myself to the guy next to me...come to find out he's a cop.
Not only that - he's a cop in the area where the dinner was.
Call it a Los Angeles Riots/N.W.A/Rage Against the Machine thing but Fuck The Police.
He sort of reminded me of Matt Dillon's character from Crash - one of those cops.
Now I'm feeling really guilty about this drink I'm sipping on.
Granted, the police officer had way more to drink than me but in my head I kept picturing me pulling out of the Hyatt and him just pulling me over for a DUI.
Needless to say, that was the end of my drink and I sipped on water the rest of the evening.
I mostly was looking forward to the raffle.
I usually have good luck when it comes to them and since there wasn't a whole bunch of people, I liked my shot.
Raffles starts, got my ticket out, and the prizes are a little...girly.
I'm assuming this could just be a lame raffle and that I should just be happy with any prize I get because.
About five prizes in, my ticket gets called.
Yes! What did I win?
A ceramic pie dish with a ceramic bird that sits in the middle of the pie dish.
T, you won yourself a pie dish. Don't say I never gave you nothing.
At this point, I'm not mad.
Until they start announcing such prizes as: Happy Hour for 10, a Booze Cruise for 10 and a Suite in a posh NYC hotel.
Where was all this when I was winning pie pans?
And of course one of the other Hofstra volunteers won the Hotel Suite only adding more insult to injury.
Anyone have a recipe for Sweet Potato pie...
I was tempted not to attend because it was 30 miles away and I was feeling lazy but I pysched myself up for the hour drive and got in the car.
My real motivation was free food and open bar though.
I normally don't drink but if you knew the kid that I had to deal with each week, you would have a drink too.
Two drinks at that.
So I get there and I'm like I'll have one drink and call it a night.
I order a Cranberry and Vodka and as I'm watching the bartender pour the vodka in, I'm thinking to myself "Oy."
I took like two sips and I couldn't taste the cranberry juice at all.
Straight vodka, yo.
Since it was open bar, I passed my drink on to another Big and go back to a different bartender.
This time, a Sex On The Beach.
"Easy on the liquor, please" I tell the bartender.
"Yes, yes, I'll make it real sweet."
Lies.
Wasn't nearly as strong as the Cranberry and Vodka but still strong.
So I take my drink and cocktail hour is over so we head towards the dinner table.
It was mostly Hofstra students and then two other older people also joined us.
I introduce myself to the guy next to me...come to find out he's a cop.
Not only that - he's a cop in the area where the dinner was.
Call it a Los Angeles Riots/N.W.A/Rage Against the Machine thing but Fuck The Police.
He sort of reminded me of Matt Dillon's character from Crash - one of those cops.
Now I'm feeling really guilty about this drink I'm sipping on.
Granted, the police officer had way more to drink than me but in my head I kept picturing me pulling out of the Hyatt and him just pulling me over for a DUI.
Needless to say, that was the end of my drink and I sipped on water the rest of the evening.
I mostly was looking forward to the raffle.
I usually have good luck when it comes to them and since there wasn't a whole bunch of people, I liked my shot.
Raffles starts, got my ticket out, and the prizes are a little...girly.
I'm assuming this could just be a lame raffle and that I should just be happy with any prize I get because.
About five prizes in, my ticket gets called.
Yes! What did I win?
A ceramic pie dish with a ceramic bird that sits in the middle of the pie dish.
T, you won yourself a pie dish. Don't say I never gave you nothing.
At this point, I'm not mad.
Until they start announcing such prizes as: Happy Hour for 10, a Booze Cruise for 10 and a Suite in a posh NYC hotel.
Where was all this when I was winning pie pans?
And of course one of the other Hofstra volunteers won the Hotel Suite only adding more insult to injury.
Anyone have a recipe for Sweet Potato pie...
