Today In Black History: My Braxton’s Ban

As short as the month already is, shame on me for just now wishing each of you a Happy Black History Month.  I am sure though, that as astute learners and commemoratively minded individuals that I know each of you to be, that you have already been celebrating this month in Black/American History in profound ways (like your box office support of Red Tails, your many visits to the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial on The Mall, your assistance in helping all the little children at your church to learn their Black History Speeches, and of course, your ticket purchases for the New Edition Reunion Tour).

I too, have been making strides in Black History.  Namely, my self-imposed ban on the WETV reality show sensation, The Braxton’s Family Values.  Why you ask?  Well, because when I start getting mouthy with inanimate objects, it’s time to reevaluate and cut off negative influences.

See, what had happened was…Going home from the grocery store last night, I proceeded to place my purchase on my kitchen counter.  Unfortunately, in mid hoist, one of my grocery sacks broke, spilling the contents of my purchases on my floor (several jars of spaghetti sauce).  Looking down at the floor where my purchases lay, I opened my mouth in angry frustration and uttered:

“You better Get Yo’ Life!” at the marinara sauce.

Um, yeah.  The revelation came soon after that not only was Tamar’s influence not what I wanted for my life, but that I probably needed to brush up on my W.E.B. Dubois and Booker T. Washington readings before my “practicing intellectual” card ended up confiscated.

iCan’t Today.

Well folks, like a simp I’ve once again taken work home over the weekend and am also working through my day off.

*Sigh*

Somebody agree in prayer with me that a long lost, obscenely wealthy great aunt or uncle shows up in my life and decides they want to adopt me!

Jesus be a benefactor!

Lions and Tigers and Bears…Ohio!?

Imagine waking up to reports that your children’s schools have been closed for the day and your employer has urged that you stay home, and there isn’t even a single snowflake in sight or any inclement weather on the horizon.  Imagine still, that these precautions have been taken due not to a community woosah day, but because exotic wild animals are on the loose in your neighborhood!

Well, for the folks in rural Zanesville, Ohio this wasn’t a hypothetical situation at all, as many rose with the sun to news that wild animals had broken free from their cages last night on a Muskingum County wild animal preserve where, once authorities arrived on the scene, found the zoo owner Terry Thompson dead.  Further investigating found that the animals’ cages had been opened, and the preserves external fences were unsecure; a detail that had many morning show reports this a.m. speculating on what actually happened and what caused Thompson’s death at the site.

Of the 48 Lions, leopards, cheetahs, black bears, grizzly bears, mountain lions and wolves (to name a few) that had escaped the privately owned zoo about 55 miles east of Columbus, close to 25 had been shot and killed Tuesday evening.  CNN interviewed legendary animal expert and the Columbus Zoo’s director emeritus Jack Hanna, who was asked to assist authorities in hunting and retrieving the animals, and he expressed remorse that so many animals had to be put down, but reiterated that in a scenario when escaped animals absconded into populated areas, human life had to be the priority.

But for as movie-ready as this unbelievable scenario has seemed, many neighbors who live near the preserve have not been surprised by the escape.  In 2006, it was reported that a lion had gotten loose from the small zoo, and over the years, many neighbors have called authorities complaining of hearing roaring and other deafening animal noises throughout the night.  Still, more than just the nuisance of living so close to such a bizarre place, neighbors said they have always been cautious and worried because although Thompson lived on the premises, he stayed in legal trouble regularly, due to his animal permits and the creatures getting out of their manufactured habitats all of the time.

Now, I will be the first to admit to being an avid fan zoos, Animal Planet and most things beastly (from afar of course), but the idea of having my very own Wizard of Oz scenario unfold right in my back yard would have me in complete and utter Cowardly Lion mode!

I mean, it’s clear that privately owning such a multitude of wild animals the way that Thompson did is legal in Ohio and many other states across the country, but when owners have been cited numerous times and proper precautions fail to be taken in caring for these animals (whose natural habitats are NOT somebody’s modified farm), perhaps the regulations surrounding the private ownership of such dangerous beasts should be revised and reinforced before the unthinkable were to happen; oh, wait…

Babychild Chronicles: Get the Anti-Venom

I always find it amazing whenever I see my children’s personalities develop right before my eyes. Like today, when I came to the realization that my child’s imagination was greater than my will to work overtime.

Well into Day 2 of my “time and a half sure would be good right about now” take-home work session, the Babychild meandered into my den to determine exactly why he had not had my full and undivided attention in more than two hours.  But before he could engage me in a lengthy chat about his racing cars and The Backyardigans, I noticed some gnarly little marks on his neck.  When I asked him what happened, he looked at me rather dumfounded.  But it was when he ran down the hall to the bathroom mirror to see what I was talking about, that all hell broke loose.

 “Momm-ma! Momm-ma! Look at my owies!! I know what happened!”

I could already tell by his hyper declaration that this one was going to be a doozy, but I got up, headed to the bathroom and entertained his deduction.

 “A snake bit me…a snake with nun chucks!”

Stifling a snicker, I asked him what became of the snake.

 “He got snaked by another snake, and then I destroyed it with my karate moves!”

Silly me, surely I had to know that snakes were no match for Babychild martial arts.  Now there was the matter of the bites.

 “Ooooh. My neck really hurts momm-ma. But don’t worry. I think the brownies in the kitchen will make me feel all better.”

And just like that, my work was effectively put on hold this evening, as I had to administer medicine, of the confectionery variety to my little snake bite victim.

I swear, there is never a dull moment when it comes to The Babychild and his siblings! But maybe it’s these animated moments that are to be my salvation.  Perhaps I need to quit my job (with all of its after-hour work trappings) and pitch a Pack Kids reality series to TLC!

 

Tapped Out!

Sorry Fanny Pack Fam!  After disputing a traffic ticket, cancelling and rescheduling two meetings, getting caught in the rain and sitting through gnarly, weather slicked, bumper-to-bumper traffic today, I am all out of gas.

But hey, feel free to historically search some blog posts or simply chitchat amongst yourselves.  I’ll be luxuriating in a bubble bath while I co-wash my hair.

Deuces.

Boys Will Be Boys

Question:  What child eagerly bounces out of the house for a neighbor’s birthday party yet returns home 3 hours later with a busted forehead and a knot the size of a robin’s egg?

Answer:  The Big Boy

After the fun, festivities, cake, presents, piñatas, and so much candy and confections that I will be hand-delivering to my neighbors an invoice from the family dentist, my nephew walked through the front door, escorting my oldest son, who’s head was cocked all the way back.  When I asked them what was the matter, The Big Boy leaned forward and revealed a rather leaky injury.  Looking angrily from one boy to the other, my nephew finally raised his head skyward and told me to ask The Big Boy what happened.

“I bumped my head on a wall…” he said nonchalantly.

“…Diving for a balloon, TeeTee!” my nephew finished incredulously.

Apparently, to avoid remaining in “the middle”, my little monkey propelled himself and to tried to retrieve the key to his oppression.  Unfortunately, a wily living room wall snuck up on him and assaulted his forehead.  So thanks to my child’s daredevil antics, not only does his forehead require two stitches, but I will have to expedite shipping for his daily wear head gear.  Naw, I’m just kidding about the helmet, but I am seriously considering investing in a boy-sized protective bubble!

From The Hot Mess Files: Biebershop Quartet

 

iCant! iCant! iCant!

I heard this rather crude silliness on the radio this morning, and I now officially quit life (well, that almost was the case since I came close to wrecking my car from snickering so uncontrollably).

But seriously, blogging a response to, an explanation for or the rationale behind this latest cyber display of Bieber Fever would be doing these guys gals a total disservice.  Just view their tribute parody to the “Prince of Pop” at your leisure and draw your own conclusions!

…In the interest of his core fan base however, I highly doubt if Justin would consider allowing these doppelgangers to open for his next multi-city tour.

Cory’s In The House: Bristol’s House!

…Okay. Admittedly, that’s how rumors get started. But when I heard this “story” last week about Kyle Massey and Bristol Palin planning to do a reality show together (with Kyle’s older brother Christopher) while also fostering their still new and budding relationship, I tripped. Hard.

Tripped because the idea of Kyle dating the daughter of a woman who has clearly had no problem with encouraging, inciting and in many cases thinly-veiling her own racist tinged behavior seemed appalling to me.  Tripped because all the undesirable portrayals surrounding Bristol and the Palins; Kyle was now possibly allowing them to tarnish his cookie cutter image. Tripped because in my mind, what in THE heck was The Disney Kid doing with Caribou Barbie’s Kid?!?

But after I sat and really thought about it, I had to severely check myself!  The God’s honest truth of the matter was simply that I was projecting all of my “aversion” (to put it mildly) for Sarah Palin, onto her daughter; a young woman, who although made some unfortunate decisions early in her young life, had done nothing to warrant anyone’s ire, least of all mine.

And while I wasn’t particularly a fan of what I believed was her “reconciled daughter” image for the sake of her mother’s political aspirations and later, of her unfortunate and rather rigid movements on Dancing With The Stars last season, the more I saw of Bristol on the show (and out from under her mother’s wing), the more I slowly began to admire her tenacity and resolve in proving that she was more than simply a political pawn.

I mean, for all the “tabs” it appeared that Sarah Palin had laboriously tried to keep on her daughter, Bristol seemed to use the show and her newfound “freedom” to make friends (enter Kyle), gain exposure for herself and to ultimately reveal to America a bit more of her identity than just the depiction of the-girl-from-Alaska-who-had-a-baby-and-whose-mother-ran-for-Vice-President that we’d all come to know and expect of her.  What I also had to concede that I’d come to respect about Bristol was the fact that post-Levi Johnston and the 2008 elections, she had not let her mother, social pressures, political circles or anyone else for that matter, dictate what was or wasn’t suitable for her life.

With Bristol, Kyle and Christopher’s reality show currently in the works (where the trio will be sharing a residence in Los Angeles and she will be speaking to teens and promoting abstinence) and speculation surrounding Kyle and Bristol’s “dating” status, the Hollywood buzz seems to have immediately zeroed in on Mama Bear’s complete and utter displeasure.  In fairness though, I don’t know what mother would be comfortable with their daughter sharing close quarters with two young men (and having their exploits recorded and aired for all posterity), no matter how wholesome their images or lucrative their television careers.  Unfortunately, that doesn’t appear to be what’s been eating Sarah.

Where many tabloid and political outlets alike have pointed to Mrs. Palin’s concern with Bristol frivolously jumping from one relationship to another as the source of her current discomfiture, one has to wonder how in Sarah Palin’s mind could Bristol “possibly” dating That’s So Raven’s little brother and doing a reality show with him (with its principle theme being that of abstaining) be any more unsuitable than being made the poster child for unwed mothers, and being strongly encouraged to marry a baby’s daddy who ultimately turned out to be a Playgirl posing, family bashing pariah; all for her mother’s political gain?

Actually, I imagine one does not have to wonder how Sarah is rationalizing all of this in her mind.

Yes, Technology WILL Be The End of Us Silly Head!

Okay, I’ll admit it…with the frequency in which software and technology developers churn out their “new and improved, must have” products (here’s looking at the Apple iPad Irish Twins), it kind of is a good idea for a major retailer like Best Buy to create programs that give us consumers a few of our pennies back when it comes time to upgrade to the latest and greatest.

Still, you guys know me!  I am absolutely tripping at the (hilarious, but demonstrable) buffoonery of Best Buy’s latest Buy Back Program commercial.  Specifically, the heavily caricatured Mad Black Woman.  I mean, why does she have to be that upset over a BlackBerry Torch?  To me, the only thing she has a right to be angry about is whatever that is that’s taken up residence atop her head and isn’t paying rent!

Just Sayin’

The Devil Is Black? AND He Makes Cakes?

You can always count on the innocent inquiry of a child to hem you up, leave you utterly dumbfounded or make you rethink your position on an otherwise trivial matter.  That’s what happened to me this afternoon while The Babychild was playing Pastry Chef’s Apprentice to me in the kitchen.

With my kids officially ripping and running all over creation thanks to the annual free-for-all that is Spring Break, the rules in the Pack Household have become a little more lax (well, at least for the next five days).  Once such rule that is receiving a brief moratorium is the one referring to no sweets on weekdays.  Sympathizing with their sugar-deprived angst, I decided that I was going to bake them a “just because” cake today to enjoy during their vacation.  And seeing me getting my bake on, The Babychild decided that he just had to be all up in the batter as my helper and unofficial taste-tester.

That was, until he realized what I was making.  After adding, mixing and pouring my velvety cake ingredients into my baking pan, The Babychild eagerly awaited the spoon, bowl and mixer tong to lick.  It was evident that he clearly had no problem with the taste of the rich, dark concoction, and he happily let me know it.  When he asked me what kind of cake I was baking and I absently told him Devil’s Food Cake, things quickly changed.

“Mom-ma, the devil makes cakes and he is black like us!?”

Stricken…Panicked…Exasperated; adjectives that don’t even hold a candle to the look that was in that little boy’s face or the trepidation in his voice.  In my mind, all I could hear were damage control sirens shrieking and my inner voice screaming “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!”

How in the world was I going to explain to my toddler that although I’d often wondered what 18^th century European “genius” decided to associate “deviled” foods with “black”, and even rolled my eyes a time or two at my local grocer for aligning their Angel’s Food Cake mix on one shelf and their Devil’s Food Cake mix on a lower one, that there was no legitimate association between the naughty entity he had come to know as the devil and people of color.

Again, the expression on my child’s face let me know that he was extremely troubled by this potential discovery, so I had to forego the backstory altogether and simply explain to him that for years and years and years, that had been the name for the super chocolatey confection in our oven, and that the devil has never had anything to do with baked goods.  Pondering that for a moment, The Babychild laughed and told me how silly it all was, then proceeded to lick his sticky fingers.

WHEW! Mini-Crisis averted!

Still…a smoldering side-eye at Betty Crocker, Duncan Hines and those first culinary experts who caused my kid to fret over a deviled dessert!