Who Let the Air Out?

Whoop whoop whoop whoop. Do you remember the song to which I am alluding? It was kinda catchy after a while even if you aren't into that sort of music. Anyway, I've been away for a while just living life and doing me. Nothing really serious but I was cultivating me so that I can be the best JayBee possible. I had to identify some goals and benchmarks to chart my progress toward what I wish to have and be. Not gonna go into detail about it in this post, but that information is more likely than not forthcoming.

So, as we are all critically aware, it is the weekend prior to arguably the most significant political event in the last forty years. I was giddy the first time I heard someone say, "Happy Inauguration Weekend." In the past I don't remember anyone referring to this time as Inauguration Weekend. To begin celebrating the festivities many people are partying all weekend. How marrying the union of the African American experience and the American experience equates to drunken revelry is beyond me, but whatever. I like a lil party e'er' now and again myself.

In true JayBee fashion, there was in fact another celebrity sighting last night at Love. That's right folks. You guessed it. JayBee was all up and through there! Love is a popular club in DC. Lots of people. Tigger showed up and Jay Z took the stage as well. Jay Z (not Bee) didn't do much more than bob his head and drink from a flute, but he had his face in the place. More beautiful and shapely women than you can count and most people appeared to be having a good time. I smirk every time I see someone on the dance floor moving through the throng carrying a bottle of Moet or some other pricey libations. Before you even start, I ain't hatin' on nobody. I could purchase a bottle of Mo' but I know better. First of all, I don't even like champagne that much and even if I did, I just am not in a position to indiscriminately make ridiculous purchases. We all know that holding that bottle of Moet is supposed to send a message about your status. I'm gon shut it down with two questions for all the people I saw last night toting the bottles and bouncing and snaking through the crowd. By the way, of course they always hold it so as to draw some attention. I can't really describe it, but if you've been to a party and witnessed this you know what I'm talking about. Ready for the questions? Good. Here goes: What's your credit score and who's your primary care physician? If you aren't in at least the 700s for the first one and are not able to state the name and location of the second you have no business holding a bottle of anything. Unless it's a bottle of common sense.

I just needed to get that out. That's not the point of this entry.

So before I went in the party I was arguing with this crackhead guy who was doing parking. I told him I was not paying $5.00 to park on a city street. In my mind (Ieisha, you should be able to clear this up) he can't charge money to park on a city street. After I refused to pay the fee and parked anyway because it's a public street, he tried to sell me a card for $5.00 to get in the cut line. I told him that I didn't need it because I know someone who works there so I don't wait in line anyway. Once we left the club around 3:15ish and walked back to the car I noticed that my right back tire was flat. Mind you my tires are less than 1 year old and have plenty of tread on them. I don't think I ran over anything. My supposition is that ole crackhead with the stolen orange vest punctured my tire. Imagine my dismay when I walked out and it was nine degrees and 3:24 by the time we got to the car.

I'm back. I gotta share what happened at Christmas when I went back to Georgia. I hope every one's holidays went well and that people are at least doing something to mark the day for the inauguration.

A Stranger In My House

Everything was going as well as it could until I turned 15. The summer before freshman year of high school I tried everything that your parents tell you to stay away from. Smoking, drinking and sex. I enjoyed two of the three, hated one and didn’t get serious about one of the two until I got to college and the other one of the two I got more serious about toward the middle of college. That’s a bootleg riddle. First person to get it right gets—let me see…..the assurance of knowing they were right. Meanwhile, not the point of the story, but yeah, I was as the old people say “smellin’ myself.” I became more contentious at home, argumentative with my parents at times, especially him*.

Although a lot had happened and my parents had numerous reasons to be sick of me, there was an incident that prompted the séance. I was home chillin’ cause it was the summer time. I didn’t attend any enrichment camps or anything like that. That’s why some people have an advantage over others. They expose their children to things that are going to expand their minds. Maybe if I had been at a camp or something, then the incident wouldn’t have happened. Old people say an idle mind is the devil’s workshop. There was a neighborhood girl in whom I was interested. Not like I was in love or anything remotely close to that—I was 15 years old. You know what I was thinking about. So we began hanging out. Hanging out led to sexual talk. One day I remember on the playground (we were just up there talkin’) I pretended that I had to use the bathroom. I was ready to see how she would react to seeing it. I whipped it out and just held it for a while. Of course nothing came out cause I really didn’t have to use the bathroom. I was like oh well I guess I didn’t have to go all the while I was getting an erection because here I was with this girl I liked with my piece in my hand kinda just sitting in this awkward silence as she looked at me and I looked at her. As I was about to put it away, she said that I didn’t have to. We exchanged a little back and forth and then ended up at my house in my bedroom. T.I. You know what it is.

Of course we had sex on my brother’s bed—not mine. I guess that was kinda triflin’. We had been going for maybe about seven or eight minutes before we heard a car door slam. Actually I didn’t hear the car door. She did. When she told me she heard something I was telling her she didn’t hear anything cause I wanted to finish what I had started. Thinking back on it now, there was no condom involved either. So stupid. Honestly, condoms didn’t become involved in sex for me until I was like 22. It’s just God’s grace that I don’t have a kid or anything grandma’s washing powder can’t get off. Anyway, she kinda pushed me off her while urging me to look out the window. I did. It was him* carrying grocery bags. I had about 7 seconds to get her out of the house, get up front, spray something just in case and act like nothing had happened. Needless to say I couldn’t pull that off.

We both ran up to the den in the front of the house. Our den had a door on it so she closed and locked the door just before he* entered the house. He started bamming on the door telling us to open the door. I was seated across the room farthest away from the door. She was sitting right next to the door in a chair but was frozen with fear. I kept telling her to open the door but she just kept shaking her head no. Finally I got up, did the flip up in my shorts (I think the fellas will know what I’m sayin’) and opened the door. He* started with the 20 questions. What was all that noise? What’s going on? I heard ya’ll running. He’s* asking and answer his* own questions. Nesha decided to say that we were in the back playing my keyboard. I’m thinking to myself this broad is sooooo stupid. My adapter had been broken for like three months so there was no way in hell we were playing the keyboard. He went to the back to test the keyboard and surveyed the room. Somewhere in the middle of this Nesha was dismissed and he told me that he didn’t want her back in our house ever again. When he came back he said that the adapter was still broken and the bed was messed up. My clever story was that we were wrestling. (We were, kinda). He* didn’t buy it and he made me do manual labor. Anyone who knows me knows how much I hate pulling weeds and shit like that. I had to wash all the cars too and cut the grass. I hate that kinda shit. Hire someone ma phucka.

Later that evening he* called my mom who was in Tacoma, WA, at the time to tell her what happened. I was so pissed off about him calling her. I could give a phuck less about what he thought, but I highly respect my mother and want her to have a good opinion of me. I had already been in a lot of trouble because of my mouthiness. Basically I was just acting grown. I had something to say about everything. When she got back, they came up with this bright idea to have an intervention to “save me” from what I’m not sure—maybe the devil.

Like I said, getting caught in the house was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Truthfully I never would have gotten caught if he* wasn’t stealing company time by grocery shopping and bringing food home. It’s really his* fault. Ma phucka. So at the intervention they called the whole family together. There were six of us. Four siblings and my mom and him*. These people are ultra religious so of course we go to the Bible to start the lashing. I remember them having some prepared notes to make sure they covered all my list of offenses and whatnot. They read off all the infractions, which were numerous. After the reading of the charges against me they read some verses from the Bible. The one that sticks out the most was “Why do the heathen rage?” He* even had a book by the same title and pulled some stuff from there to tell me why I was such a heathen and why I was raging (acting out). Basically they said it was a demonic spirit that had me bound and that’s why I was being so bad and that every time I did something else I was feeding the demon and making it stronger. They had had enough and were going to try to pray it out of me. My mom said her piece, which was much softer but she was very concerned about the person I was turning into. I knew that this was not my mom’s idea, but she went along with it I guess to appease him*. Ma phucka.

They even sung some church songs. I don’t remember what they sang but it was almost like a mini church service minus the offering. As they were talking I remember having something like an out-of-body experience. I kinda looked around at the five faces staring at me and the two faces doing the talking/preaching/teaching/seancing/casting-out-demoning and I was like these ma phuckas are really crazy. Like I knew before that they had some idiosyncrasies, but now I felt like these people were CERTIFIABLE. Don’t get me wrong. I’m crazy ‘bout my mama, but I thought her going along with this was not a good idea as this “intervention” or whatever was a bit extreme. The whole thing was absolutely surreal. I was just sitting in the room like this cannot be happening. I wondered what my real family was like and if I had been switched at birth. I mean, okay I was wildin’ out a little bit, but seriously, all this was unnecessary. At certain times while they were talking they would ask me questions. I wouldn’t answer. Of course this made them mad and they were saying the demon won’t let him talk. I was thinking how crazy they had to be to think that something was keeping me from talking. I wasn’t speaking because I couldn’t believe what was happening. I just felt so out of place. There was a stranger in my house. It took a while to figure out, but the realism was that the stranger was me.

Ever since that day things were a little different. We’ve never discussed it from that day to this one, and until now I had not relieved it again. It was one of the defining moments of my youth because I realized how people would use the Bible as a weapon against you and believe that they are justified. To this day I’m awfully leery of someone who always references the Bible. Don’t get me wrong. I go to church most Sundays and I enjoy it. It’s just I think of people who do this kinda stuff as fanatics. Just like when I ask someone how they are doing and they tell me blessed and highly favored. BREAKING NEWS: This just in. You can be saved and answer “fine” when someone asks how you’re doing. You won’t lose your salvation.

I kinda stopped giving them so much trouble after that but only because I didn’t want to sit through another cast out demons/bring down the strongholds ceremony.