Since when did the Roxy get all ethnic?

First, I catch wind of Smif-N-Wessun and Buckshot performing tonight. I'm still trying to put my mind around how they did that and how in the world I'm gonna be able to make it. And now, I hear that the Breed Love Odyssey tour will be swingin through town three weeks later on December 1st. Lemme find out they done went and got new management with some hip genes in their DNA. I can get with this [2].

You'd think my name was Bebe

I feel sorry for trouble if it runs into them kids.
-Ron Harris

Yes, my friend, it feels just like it looks. Like a bunch of lightning bolts running through the skull simultaneously. It's going on nearly four hours that I've been trying to get this half pint muthufuqa to go to sleep. And while I am graciously trying my best and doing everything in my power to maintain my discipline and composure and not throw his punk a$$ up against a wall, the situation is gradually deteriorating.

The crazy part is that I already had him on the verge of sleep twice tonight, but somehow, like Mimi/Mariah, this dude just keeps bouncing back. Maybe this really is the twilight zone because I swear I saw dust balls skipping along the street like this was Dodge City. So basically, I left his a$$ downstairs right now and he is currently banging away on the bedroom door. But it's not like it's locked or anything. He keeps opening and closing the door (read: slamming that mutha) and hollering his lungs out(more like growling now. it's his cresecendo). Oh well...you would think the hollering your lungs out part would get him tired and eventually wear him down. No, no...not Super Toddler. And to think, we had an early morning and he still is trying to go toe-to-toe with king night owl himself. The nerve of this mutha...pissing me off to the highest level of pissivity.

Actually, I had originally planned to wear him out quickly and put him to bed by 9pm so I could get some work done since it's obvious not enough time in the day to attend to everything I need to hande with my job. But of course, bam-bam said this is Burger King today, b!tch. He's gonna have it his way regardless of what I say...or shout. And since I'm a bit weary myself, I think I'm gonna have to wave that white flag and call it a night. I think this will have to be filed under "stolen moments to recall when it's prom time." The nerve of this mutha...

You ever dance with the devil under the pale moonlight?

Here's the cause of this shT, more statistics, deeper than the laws of physics
-Nature, "Deperados"

Don't think for a second that I'm repping Batman, sunshine. Shout out to everyone who remebers The Firm album. This a quick plea for help from any local nerds willing to volunteer 3 hours of their life to a worthy cause. It's not like any local nerds actually will read this in the next 36 hours, but oh well...fuq it, right? So basically, our NSBE chapter is taking our NSBE Jr. chapter down to the conference this weekend. The shorties won the Try-Math-A-Lon qualifying match in October and thus have a shot at comepting regionally. They've been studyting and getting tutored the past few weeks on Tuesday and Thursday after school at UMass-Boston and the midget and I swung by on Tuesday to lend a helping hand. For the most part, the team as a whole is on top of their math game, but man oh man, physics is the devil incarnate. That shT had me going batty for a good 30 minutes. I'll admit, I was never the illest physics student in the first place, but damn yo, I swear I was one of Dr. Boorman's best students back in 95-96. So what happened? Son, either my brain cells fried, that shT got way harder, or I must have mistakenly thought I did better than I actually did. At least I was able to breeze through the math practice test. A couple of ratio problems, some percentages, some exponent multiplication, some long division; it's all good. I got you. As a matter of fact, I even got to play teacher for a bit, with chalk dust caked up in between by thumb and index finger as I demo'd several sample probelms on the board. Felt good. Definitely will file that one under 'need to revisit.'

But when you start talking about wattage and joules and force and work and effieciency output and kilojoules; ring the alarm, please. Your boy needs some assistance. I was that deer in the headlights. The phrase 'the blind leading the blind' can be so poignant at times that it ain't even funny. So if you're reading this and think you can lend a helping hand this Thursday, holla at the kid. They'll be there for an extra hour, from 5:30-8:30pm trying to get all the last-minute cramming as possible in preperation for the next day's voyage. Hoepfully, we can come back on Sunday with big cheesy grins and something to show for all of their hard work. They're good kids and are putting their best foot forward. That's all that reall matters anyway, right? Word.

Let me explain how I maintain thresholds to pain
I walk across the sun barefott looking for shade
-Canibus

Unless the judge is wack and the jury is jive

Sean Price was on to something. On Tuesday, I had to wake up at what seemed to be the dawn of a new millenium because it was soo damn early int he morning. But anyways, I managed to slalom out of bed at 7-something in the morning and casually made my way to the Orange line and then downtown to the Suffolk County Courthouse at Pemberton Square. Let me tell you, this place is so tucked away that it isn't funny. It's actually not hard to find, but it's quite the elusive structure nonetheless.

So anyways, I get there by 9 to wait in the large jury pool staging area and cross my fingers hoping for a short visit. Yeah right. We end up sitting there for a little while until my panel gets called up to one of the 20 courts in session. We hear about the case that is going to trial and have to answer questions about any conflicts we may have. Now that I think about it, there were a few people who did seem to be just raising their hands for just about everything, inclusing this one older brother who clearly did not want to be anybody's juror. So anyways, they start impaneling cats individually and inch ever so close down the list to my name as people get excused left and right. So the first 14 jurors get situated and then guess what. Yup, two get removed by counsel. Back down the list. Ok, so we're at 14 again. Not so fast buddy. Back down the list again. Ok so they are finally all happy and squared away and the rest of us are grinning from ear to ear thinking we've made it and can see the light at the end of the tunnel. But of course, our delight was quickly shTTed on when told to report back to the jury pool room. I counted at least a half dozen nonverbal 'fuq yous' in a span of two seconds. Now at this point, I'm already way beyond hurting because naturally, my dumba$ decided to forgo sensibility and stayed up until 4am the night before. So I'm a bit blunted-eyed to start with, not to mention the slight headache that had my head thumping for the previous 24 hours.

Everything after that is bleary. If I had gotten robbed, I definitely would be of no use to a sketch artist. I can faintly recall about four specific moments where I literally felt my head bouncing back up. If you're not sure what I mean by bouncing, then you obviously were very serious and studious student. I, on the other hand, have been sleeping in class since the mid-ninties. Front row, window seat, last pew; it don't matter, B. When it's time to doze, I'm a goner. So basically, I remember hearing a collective shout of celebration and a bunch of bustling and I quickly realized it was time to roll out at about 1pm. Back to working world I go. But seriously, I understand the necessity of fair and impartial random people, but something's gotta give. I don't think I would have made a ery good juror. I was hurting like a mutha. Maybe we should rewrite the law books to make it a voluntary process. Just think; voter turnout would increase and mistrials woud decrease. Now wouldn't that be lovely?