One More Thing

There is one additional circumstance I neglected to talk about yesterday. I had to think about whether I wanted to tell the story or not for fear of the drive by bitch slaps I'll probably get from my unusually passionate friends and family. Some people are serious about their Dwaynie.

But no sense in keeping it locked away, so here we go.

Bright and early Sunday morning after a hectic night (see previous post) a bredren and I decided to make a last minute Kool Runnings run. Again, there are no doubles men here so a 24 hour jamaican spot is the next best thing........especially when there's more alcohol in you than blood. Now as we're on the topic of blood, it is important to note that God blessed men with two "heads", but gave us only enough blood to run them one at a time. Be mindful of this fact while you read this story.

Standing in line eyeballing the ox tail, a young lady walks up to us. I say "lady" loosely as she was closer to "gyul." She struck me as untidy looking, disheveled, she'd sweated her hair out, her eyes were blood shot and she was clearly tight. She smelled good though, in a sort of Chanel meets hemp sorta way. All in all, not girlfriend material obviously but good for peg (we're all adults here).

The other head............
"Smallie whey yuh from?" Turns out she's one of those U.S. born children of trini parents. Whatever, inconsequential. Before I knew it, I'd offered to pay for her food and in no time she's sitting with the boys eating. One time you could tell something was wrong with this chick. No woman, drunk or sober eats in polite company with her nose literally down in the food. By the time she was done, there was a ring of bones, rice and cabbage around the plate.

"Which one of you fine gentlemen is going to walk me to my car?" Okay, I wonder where she parked?

"Party Room"


Wait..........what?
How the hell did she get from Party Room to Kool Runnings without her car? Its like three miles...........I'm thinking La Diablesse; I started sneaking glances under the table looking for the cow leg. At this point I didn't even care for an explanation. I just needed her gone. But I couldn't do it, I couldn't just leave her alone; she's bad news but I'm not an asshole. Home-girl was clearly in no condition to drive herself anywhere. I voiced my concerns and in response I got: "well you'll just have to be a nice boy and follow me home then."

My head is thinking: Soucouyant......run!!
My "other head" is thinking: "Hmm......What did I do with those condoms?"

Now we're on the 285 and my girl is booking it. Ninety-five mph and up, left indicator on......going right. Right indicator on.....going left. She tells me we're going to Duluth but we bypass I-85. Soon she's coming off on Peachtree Industrial but darts back on 285 at the last minute. Before I can react she drifts into the adjacent lane (it was occupied) and right before impact, jerks the car back and almost hits the person on the other side.....now she's fish tailing. O.O

I get her to come off on Ashford Dunwoody into a gas station. Conveniently her gas tank is empty so I'm like "stay here, gimme the money let me go pay for your gas." Oh, that's interesting, no gas money eh? What the hell was she planning to buy her food with then if I paid for it?
SUCKER
I offered her $10.........she demanded $15.
SUCKER
Before I knew it, the chick had pumped her $15 gas and drove off.
SUCKER
I got a call an hour later with a:

 "Thanks for your help, I really appreciate it......and oh by the way, I got another number, this isn't my phone, please don't call on this line, I'll text you the new number......kay bai."

I never heard from her again.

One Hell of A Weekend

There ought to a be a law against having this much fun; I hadn't been this active since Morehouse ('02 - '05). I suppose being single is a plus because it wasn't going to go down like this previously. I'm talking Friday night "1996" (Sean Paul performed live by the way), Saturday afternoon, Piedmont Park, Saturday evening, Tassa. Later Saturday night was the usual Thrive, followed by by a quick run out to 426 and Party Room down in Stone Mountain. Not to be outdone, I still managed to make it to Kool Runnings even after Party Room.

But there's no point in bragging about my social life, that would be boring. I'd rather talk about the other crap, the shit that happens behind the scenes, the silly things that make for fun stories. I often wonder why I end up being the focal point for nonsense, or why I seem destined to be a walking punchline, here for peoples' enjoyment. But either way, shit happens often, so here it is for your reading pleasure.

Brace Festival
I normally mind my own business in a fete, I try not to wine on any buttom I don't know. Though I might buy a drink or two for a pretty face, I basically keep it simple: wine, wine, jump, drink, wine, drink, jump, go home. Last Friday, with a few drinks in the ole keg, I figured hey, let me wine on something different. With my confidence level high from all the working out, I figured there'd be no harm to tiefin a wine. Still ever cautious, I reached for low hanging fruit (or so I thought), a mampi.

Honestly I didn't think a big girl could move that fast. I was barely on the buttom before she'd side stepped deftly and disappeared. Wow.......the thick thing had talent; crowd navigation is not one of my strong suits but somehow home-girl pulled it off. And here I was thinking I was doing her a favour. With that ability, I bet getting to the bar is no trouble for her; takes me thirty minutes just to figure out which direction to move in the first place..

Buying drinks is tricky as by the time you get back, either half of it splash on your shoe, or all the ice done melt. Worse yet, don't let me have to traverse a crowd with a hot pee. Though in hindsight, I think I understand how this works now. The larger the mass moving through a pliable medium, the lesser the effort required to travel. In other words, you're a crowd of people, I'm a bus (the mampi) moving in your direction, you'd move Right? No such luck for the guy on a bike.

Driveby Witnesses
After the party I headed to Lithonia to deliver a package to a friend.........because 5 am is totally appropriate for package drops (obviously because they were wide awake). Feeling a little peckish, I stopped at a QT for some doughnuts and coffee. Those of you living at home, QuikTrip or QT for short, is like a US equivalent to the doubles man. Same theory, you leave a fete tight like a wet pantie, you swing by the doubles man first. No doubles men here so it's down to Waffle House, IHOP and of course QT.

So as I'm pulling up to park, I notice a dark-coloured Honda Accord parked in the adjacent spot. A quick glance at the occupants reveals 5 adults, mid-fifties, early sixties dressed formally, suits for the men, dresses and hats, etc for the women. Odd......but whatever.

A cup of coffee and two donuts later, I'm walking back to the car and surprise surprise, the Accord's front passenger window rolls down. "Sir I want to tell you about our lord and saviour.....can I leave you with some reading materials?"

Allyuh not serious.................Jehovahs Witnesses?! Nah!!

Five o'clock in the bloody morning, Witnesses out erm......witnessing. I didn't have much chance for escape either, how could I? They were parked directly in front of the door, next to the Maxima. And, forgive me, but is it too much to ask that you exit the car before hassling me? It somehow feels like cheating when when I don't have to work too hard to dodge yet another Awake magazine.

This same group of JehWits swung by the house later but I was relieved to find that hiding behind the couch is still an effective countermeasure. They, as a result, seemed to be convinced that no one was home even though there were four cars parked on the driveway.

Go figure.

D.T.J

Unintended Consequences

I have to admit, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. Why? I've gone twelve straight weeks of going to gym at least 3 times per week. What has since occurred is a rapid bout of waistline reduction and beer belly destruction, the likes of which I'd never seen. I haven't been able to wear size 36 waist pants since freshman year in college, but now, no problem.

But I'll tell you what is a problem:


I haven't been able to wear size 36 waist pants since freshman year in college. 



Simply put, I don't own any. Well I own one but you won't catch me leaving the house in it anytime soon. Same way you keep emergency drawers, I have emergency pants. Don't look at me like that, girls you know you have an emergency panty or two. A set you keep handy just so you know it's time to do laundry. Trust me, when you're down to that last pair of Charlotte Street-bought Joe Boxers with the holes in it, you know to get your ass up and wash some clothes.

Where were we?


As of late I've taken to poking holes in my belts to get pants to fit. Many of my cherished Ecko t-shirts and button-ups I probably can't wear anymore. Which brings me to my next point, I'll be thirty years old later this year and though I don't think it's a problem yet, I've started to think about what a thirty-year old should wear. How much different would that be from what a twenty or twenty-five year old wears. I've been off the social scene for quite some time but now that I'm back, I've begun to notice that my typical jeans and t-shirt numbers don't seem to cut it anymore.

Furthermore, baggy jeans apparently don't cut it anymore either but trust me, you're not going to see Mr. Thunder Thighs over here in any skinny jeans any time soon, you could forget that fantasy. Budgetary constraints prevent me from doing a major wardrobe refresh right now, so my over-sized clothing will have to do. But eventually when the time comes, I think I'll need some help. I'm wading through a morass of tight jeans, fitted tops and pedal pushers (capris to some of you), Kangol caps and Clarks and I'm honestly not feeling it.

Hell no.

Don't misunderstand me, I'm not trying to conform or be trendy. As the grey hairs start growing in one by one, and lines in my face begin to appear, I have a genuine concern that my jeans and jersey days are over. The big, fat Rhino (Ecko) print everyone is so used to seeing may have to...............wait a minute, how old is Chris? He still wears Ecko everything with jeans and he's like 40.

Okay, sorry folks, rant over. What time is it.......hungry already.

D.T.J

Contacts come in pairs

For all intents and purposes I should be declared legally blind. I really have no business driving a car or worse flying a plane (my eventual goal). The other day I was dispensing some soft serve ice cream and straight missed the cone (more on that later). You see, unknown to most people except my oldest of friends, I'm as blind as a bat. I actually grew up wearing glasses.

Carib bottle bottoms actually or the Steve Irkle glasses if you're not familiar with the whole Carib bottle reference. Long story short, my glasses lenses were maybe a half inch thick, so thick in fact that when I finally made the switch to contacts, my friends at the time joked that the lenses would probably look like silicone breast implants.......assholes.

Curiously though, my eyesight has degenerated over the years at different rates so that the vision in my right eye is far worse than that of my left leading to hilarious depth perception issues (like the ice cream cone snafu). Normally speaking, a full set of contact lenses eliminates this problem but I wouldn't be me if I didn't always lose a lens now would I.

So now I'm walking around with one lens, missing people's hands when they reach out to shake. But before you consider me a madman, consider this, I've done this for years.Not exactly a justification but because of how long I'd gone with a single lens in the past, my brain seems to have trained itself to look through only one eye. Despite me having only one lens at the moment, I don't actually see the blurred vision coming from the other eye. The aforementioned depth perception issues do pop up from time to time though.

Why don't I just get a replacement? Have you not seen the price of gas lately? When your choices become eat, pump gas or see properly, all of a sudden vision takes a back seat. That plus the fact that I wear semi-permanent lenses, not disposable ones thus they cost quite a bit more......and my prescription has expired so no free emergency lens for me, not without a full exam, new prescription, new lenses, etc, etc.

Pity.

D.T.J

The Nature of Attraction - The Weirdo

There must be something wrong with me. Mother nature designed us in such a way that man attracts woman, woman attracts man.....generally speaking. The nature of that attraction is unknown but is widely accepted that you're going to attract or be attracted to individuals with certain qualities.

For men it varies but we've narrowed it down to a few key features namely: buttom, tut tuts (lol), dimples, buttom, nice personality, cooks, fucks (often)......among other things. Women.........well let's be honest, who knows what women really want, I doubt even women know but let's humour ourselves shall we? Nice body, built, but not too muscular, decent job, nice car, clean cut yet rugged, sensitive, yet authoritative, well-mannered yet daring......oh Jesus Christ. *slaps face

Lawd fadda........women.

But alas, this is not a women bashing post, so where were we? Oh right, the nature of attraction. So the point goes, you essentially attract qualities akin to those that you yourself reflect. So if you're a health jumbie for instance, you're probably going to attract the same, if you're an upstanding, well to do individual, you're probably going to attract a well to do, upstanding individual. Foreigners, guess what, you're probably going to pull another foreigner, jamaican with a trini, bajan with a guyanese, etc.......except my trini posse here in Atlanta, any more closely knit and we'd be bordering on incest.

It should go without saying, that, if you're a slut.........guess what? Alrighty then. So what's my problem? I feel like I'm a well to do, upstanding guy, sensitive, funny, body-wise I'm not top notch but not bad either, I cook, I work, I have my own place/car/etc. Apart from mostly staying broke all the time, what is so wrong with me that I keep attracting wackos? 

Case in point..........

Saturday night, dance ram......ah mean RAM. Man wining like snake oil going outta style, if a bum bum move, wine passing. Alcohol flowing like water, the DJ an all tight, soca jamming, dancehall running, people palancing all over. But near the end of the night, as I'm sitting, updating Facebook, a smallie slides in next to me. Now if you know me well enough, you'd know this is a big deal, no strange woman speaks to me unless she's asking for directions, or invariably to speak to the dude next to me. 

She sits quickly, slips over to me seductively; she's on me before I know it. I turn, we make eye contact.....she's cute. With but the tenderest of movements she's soon whispering in my ear. With the music still playing loudly, she's hard to hear, but I know what  I heard:

"Ey boy, yuh know where I could find some ecstasy to buy?"

Wait.....what?

Out of all the fellas in here, she picks me with this shit? Which of my qualities attracted this nonsense? How exactly did I pull this kunu munu? Clearly I must have missed the "Reserved for Ecstasy Dealers" sign posted on the seat behind me. Though in hindsight, with the kind of wining that was taking place prior to this encounter, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that she thought I was on something to begin with. O.o

I suppose they don't call us Winer Boy Crew for nothing.

Hmm.

D.T.J

Have pot, will bubble.

Complacency.........when it comes to cooking, we are all guilty of it. You and your spouse may collectively know maybe ten dishes, half of which either of you could prepare well enough. Why do you think so many families have taco nights once a week? Tacos are quick, tacos are simple, and tacos are astoundingly hard to fuck up. With only seven days in any given week, six really (taco night), the average family might have a rotation of four, maybe five regular dishes.........let's not even count the single people, particularly single men (Ramen anyone?)

I myself am guilty of it. I possibly know eight dishes, four I probably do regularly, none of which involve tacos. And for those of you that know me, on a lazy week it's probably ramen and cheese with corned beef Monday to Sunday. For quite some time I'd taken to existing off of fast food and come to think of it, though I've lived at the present location almost a year, I really haven't cooked much in all that time......aside from the aforementioned ramen/corned beef concoctions, scrambled eggs, etc.

I'm talking about the things that I'm known for, macaroni pie for instance, stew/curry/bake chicken, stew pigeon peas, pelau, callalloo even, I can honestly say I've made none of these at home in almost a year.I volunteered to make a beef pelau for some friends a few weeks back and I'm not afraid to say it, I was a little intimidated. I'm normally comfortable cooking for people but that's when I'm normally cooking often to begin with. But when you've been out of practice a while, things get ticklish.

Trust me, you don't want to mess up cooking for Trinidadians because no amount of alcohol will make them forget a buss beef pelau, you'll never hear the end of it. People who weren't even in the lime will be talking about it weeks later. Thankfully, I've been told my efforts paid off and the pelau met expectations. Phew.

With gas prices rising steadily, and food prices following closely behind, fast food has (again) become far too costly a lifestyle to upkeep And yes, fast food in general, is still very unhealthy.

But whatever the rhyme or reason, I've decided to make an effort to not only start cooking again, but to expand on the number of dishes that I am able to prepare. As a trinidadian, the obvious thing would be to go to town on our cherished Naparima Girls Cookbook (which I intend to) but that would be too easy. I want to try different cultures, Caribbean at first (pepperpot, escovitch fish anyone) but eventually move on to Middle Eastern, European, Asian, African, etc.

My next challenge would be baking because truth be told, with all my bubbling ability, I can't bake worth shit (for my Shawshank fans).

As usual, I'll keep you guys posted on my efforts. I might even start adding a photo or two finally (gasp).

We'll see

D.T.J