Monthly Archives: February 2012

Two points

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7

He made his first basket at the very last game of the season. It happened so fast I couldn’t even register what was happening until it had already happened and before the cheering and the yelling and the “YEAH BUDDY’s” could escape me, the tears already were.

I’m not ashamed to be that mom. I’m lucky to be her.

Those two points rippled through that gym, sending a wave of emotion through parents and teammates who hardly know him. Strangers on their feet screaming. The assistant coach, already limping from an injury, ran up and down the court high-fiving anyone and everyone, screaming like it were his own son. The ref who had spent the entire season blowing the whistle at traveling, calling fouls and trying to get the boys to stay out of the key for too long came over to tell him how proud he was of him.

It was never about being the best; it was about getting his moment.

He got his moment. And he was at his very best.

I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with pride. Not just by his two points but by the boy who gets teased for being the short guy on the court. For the boy who understands his position in the game better than anyone but doesn’t always get passed the ball. For the boy who, when I asked later “Are you proud of yourself?” replied humbly, “Maybe.”

Be proud, dude. For this, for everything, for being who you are.

Aww, skeet-skeet: Analyzing rap lyrics

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14

I’ll be wearing a hood foreva.

My iTunes is a ridiculous mix of genres from the booty-shakin’ beats of hip-hop and rap to the hipster-take-the-wheel emo tunes and even a tiny bit o’ crooning by some of them country-western folk. I listen to music every. single. morning. as I get dressed and put my make-up on and as I dry my nails (I have a whole nail drying dance that I swear-to-god works – more on that destined-to-be-viral idea later) and now I’m really taking my jams to a whole new level of serious with my uber-long commute to work.

I might dance in my car like only all of So Cal is watching. Haters be hatin’ but my booty be shakin’.

My commute also gives me far too much time to think about the lyrics of the music I’m pop-and-locking to, which has led to me this very moment, where I break it all down for you; the very meaning of the hip-hop lyrics you’ve been wondering about.

Just freaking play along like you were wondering, m’kay?

Now before you go commenting like “Oh that’s not even what they’re saying!” Or, “THAT’S NOT WHAT THAT MEANS!!!” Let me tell you a couple things. 1. *looks around* This isn’t your blog. And, 2. I can certainly be down with O.P.P. (Other Peoples’ Perspectives) but this isn’t one of those times.

I ball so hard m*therf*ckers wanna find me. Let me tell you what, Jay-Z. I haaaated playing tetherball against assholes like you. Don’t ball so hard. It sounds painful. Bitch behave? Oh hell no. That shit you say? CRAY. Provocative? Yes. Does it get the people goin’? Yes. BUT CRAY, Jay.

Now Flo, I know that “sometimes (you) get a good feeling” but most guys do; it usually happens first thing in the morning, for starters. It’s cool. But the whole “giving in’s not an option, gotta get it in” has me all arched-brow over here like, you ain’t sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’ right? You talkin’ about gym time? Knew it. *whew*

I just wish Drake had told us what the motto was a lot sooner. I know he’s only 25 sitting on 25 mil, but crap, it would have been nice to know it was as simple as “you only live once” like, yesterday. I would have done EVERYTHING differently. Skeet, skeet, skeet.

I’m just sorry J. Cole can’t be my man. I got high, I got low, I dropped my thang down to the flo’ and… he’s only here for one night? Bullshit. Get right, get right. And to think I wanted to ride around town in his big ol’ raaaaange, nevermind his big ol’ chaaaaains. Damn they don’t make ‘em like that anymore. *sigh*

Oh, Tyga. I know you were faded/faded/faded/faded when you wrote this ’cause you keep saying the same goddamn thing over/over/over/over again. You spit out random shit like “Scarface” and “Dan Marino” without meaning/meaning/meaning/meaning and frankly I’m going to need Botox/Botox/Botox/Botox from wrinkling my forehead trying to get it/get it/get it/get it.

And lemme tell you something, Lil Jon. When the sweat starts drippin’ down yo’ balls, it’s time for you to get off the got-damn dance floor and air yo’ junk out. That’s funk waiting to happen. I’m all for a guy gettin’ low on the dance flo’ (I ain’t scared, I ain’t scared) but aww, skeet, skeet muthafucker, I don’t want to hear about your wonder cheese.

Join me next time as I dissect Hipster Hysteria, classic rock tunes or possibly some boot-scootin’ country.

Do work, son

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9

Insert golf clap here, I’ve officially been at my new job for two weeks. Just long enough to figure out my chaotic morning and nightly routines and plenty long enough to have my share of awkward moments that only I could create.

Everyone is crazy friendly at this company and I’ve noticed how super proactive they are about introducing themselves in hallways, the kitchen area, anywhere – even if we don’t necessarily work closely together. Taking this cue, a week in I decided to do the same over the cappuccino machine (where I have taught people to make foam, OF COURSE) by introducing myself to a man and telling him which team I work on, how I am new, etc. to which he replies, “I know. We met your first day?”

Riiiight. Whoops. And so we meet again?

There are also a fair share of celebrities and producers and Big Names roaming our office and the building hallways and while I’m not one to usually put faces with names (see above), I found myself a little dumbfounded to run into a producer of a show that sounds similar to Lurvivor mid-stairwell.

No, no. Like, physically run into him.

IN MY DEFENSE, who stops mid-step to text? Fine. Plenty of people. But should they? No.

A few days later color me surprised when the whole Hump Island selection suddenly became relevant in a totally YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH THAT MEGAN kind of way when a certain Bostonian who likes ‘dem apples’ was roaming the hallways.

People, this is why you don’t laminate your Hump Island choices.

Next week I get to meet the co-owners/partners of the company. I think it’s incredibly cool that they do that sort of thing with each and every employee but really, y’all know me, this is just an opportunity for me to see how far I can stick my foot in my mouth.

But seriously, I’m pretty sure there’s not a whole lot worse I can do with my nervous banter since I checked out my bio on the internal site and, heh/blush/cough/fuuuuuuck, what do you know? There it is, all shiny and shit: a link to this here blog.

*waves hi to my new co-workers*

*shifty eyes*

And on the home front, I’m adjusting – and quicker than I expected which is good. So very good. Going from married to divorced to single mom to single working mom… god, it’s been a roller coaster. But I’m really loving this new ride I’m on and am managing to not worry so much about the upcoming twists and turns; it’s refreshing to just enjoy the thrill of it all.