For those of you who care to notice, I've changed the name of my blog. No particular reason. I just grew tired of what my blog was called. Not to mention, I think the current name is closer to what I tend to talk about. Me.

I would like to clear the air right off the bat. I am overly concerned with size. Not the way you would think. I love being big. I love it until it becomes an inconvienience. (dayum, murdered that word) Then I hate it. But it's usually only in relation to my overall size.

One thing I've never spoken of that I shall speak on now is this; I'm in this for the feedback. I love to see that I have comments on the things I post. Don't think that my thoughts on the subject end with the post. I usually stop typing when I've hit the backspace button way too many times. My current keyboard is wireless. And in keeping with today's technology, it's really small. The backspace button on most people's keyboards are really large and easy to hit. Mine is really small and easy to confuse for another button. I usually end up hitting the wrong button several times for each mistyped word. I get bored of that then I signoff. Now where was I?

Jealousy. I hate seeing that someone got like 14 or more comments posted. When I see that, I read their blog. Most times I'm not all that impressed. I know my blog is fire. It stays hot. But I still don't have the base of readers these boring people have. I'm dying to figure out this popularity thing....

And to anyone smarter than me. This should be a lot of people. I need help changing the look of my blog. I'll give a temporary password to anyone willing to hook me up who won't mess with my content. Please holla back. Soon. I'm out.

The Bigness

My dear Hetzie, a.k.a. my way to vent, seems to thing I'm vain. It appears that I speak too much of myself. Hello McFly (that's for you cinemagician), it's my blog! If I choose to talk about 'The Bigness', that's what I'll talk about. Got it? Good!

Why is it such a bad thing that I'm so in tuned to myself? I love me. Not just on the good days. Not just on the days that things are going my way. I love me everyday. 24/7. 365. If everyone would try that, lots of things would be different. Normally, that would be a good segway to what I would then write about. Not today. Today all I want to say is this.

Love yourself. Only then can you love someone else.

Da Bigness

Everyday I wake up I have to ask myself the same damned question. "Why couldn't I have been born rich instead of so damned good looking?" It's damned hard being so... what's the word? ME. Hey, don't hate the playa, hate the game!

Now you may look at me and only see a big fat bastard. That's all good. I ain't mad at you. That's what I want you to see. Why? Because when I get to where I'm going to do what I'm doing, you'll see a whole different me. You see, because I don't subscribe to what a fat man is supposed to be, I do things that traditionally, fat men aren't supposed to do. And that's what gets 'em.

The average man buys his clothes off the rack and wears them. Big men can't do that. We go to the big and tall stores and see what's available. I take that one step further. Once I've made my purchase, I go to a tailor and get my 'fits fitted. After a little tapering, and letting out in the right places, I am the man. Ask anyone with money, there is nothing like a tailor made suit. My motto: Why stop at suits?

Believe me, when I get my hair did, my clothes on, and my mojo workin', I'm a dangerous man. I'll make a nigga baby mama fall in love! And that's before she even has any dialogue with me. Once I let the mouthpiece do it's thing, it's a wrap!

It's not that I've figured women out. I haven't. I've done better than that. I've figured ME out. I know what I want. If women go through all these changes before they go hunting, why shouldn't we? Use what you've got to get what you want.

Keep it lowkey. Don't try to impress her by taking her to some restaurant that you know you can't afford. Take her for a walk somewhere and introduce her ass to the dollar menu if that's what your pocket can afford. Instead of buying the whole pie, offer her a slice of some pizza. Don't keep it real. Keep it honest. It's not about her. It's about you. Sounds crazy, but it works. Don't overextend yourself and get her used to something that's not really in your power to deliver on a consistant basis.

And one more thing. Go to a salon and get your nails worked out. Women notice these things. It's not gay. Lots of men do it. Business men do it regularly. Not only is it a good place to meet women, you come out looking good too. There's more to it, but it's better saved for a more lewd post. Just trust me. There are times when a woman wants something in her. She may not know the level of clean that your penis is in, but she can look at your fingers and see if they're clean or not. Get it? If so, get your shit manicured!

Oh well. I'm going to try and dream of the winning powerball numbers. As you may have figured out, I don't need the beauty sleep! Holla!

I need a little guidance on this one guys. Even if you normally don't post comments, I would appreciate it if you would. I would like as much input on this one as possible. Here goes.

I love my girlfriend. No matter what you may read in this blog, you will never see or feel that I don't love her. I've hated her at times. But I feel that's normal. Any relationship has it's ups and downs. I'm procrastinating...

My girl has two friends. Long term friends. I hate them. One of them is her first love. The other is a guy she lived next door to for 9 years or so. I'm not going the way of infidelity with this one. Her first love is a bum. He can't seem to get his shit together and she knows that. The other? Well, they just don't vibe like that. I'm not at all worried about that. The thing that bothers me is this: Am I wrong in thinking that I should come before them in this relationship? When they call, she runs. If they need help, she gives as much as possible. One may say that that's what friends do. But there's more to it.

I'm a homebody. No one's fault. I work to make my homelife comfortable. I like to come home. I also like my mate to be there when I get there. For the most part, this is what happens. But sometimes it goes wrong. One of these fuckers will call and she has to go to them. It's like some strange addiction or something. And when she goes, she forgets how to come home. Usually we have a sort of guidline as to when we'll be home. When the bar closes, you have no reason to be out. Nothing is open. There's nothing to do. And if you're tired, wouldn't you rather sleep in your own bed instead of someone else's couch? I can't count the times this has happened.

They smoke. Cigarettes and cigaweed. She doesn't. They drink. She shouldn't. Why? Because these bums never have transportation for very long and she always has to drive. Somehow, she never makes it home until at least 4 in the morning. No matter how much I bitch, nothing changes.

Tonight she was with them. Hell, she's still with them now. I have a craving for Dr. Pepper. I asked her if she could bring me some. She said yes. Shortly after that, she came home sans Dr. Pepper. When I asked her about it she told me that she hadn't gotten it yet and offered me some money to go get it myself. I asked her if she could get it and come back. She says no because she didn't want to hear any shit. From them or me I ask. Either she responds. (no quotations because I'm pissed at the moment) I try to tell her that they wouldn't mind if she went around the corner for me. She reassured me that they would. In my mind I'm torn. One half is like fuck them. The other half is like who's more important, the MAN you sleep with, or your BOYS? It appears that she chooses them every time.

Am I wrong to feel this way? Even though I could, I don't stay out that late unless I'm working. And if I did, I wouldn't put anyone before her. Are her priorities fucked up, or am I making too much of a small thing?

Friends, countrymen, bloggers, help your homie out. I don't care how bizzare the comment may be, hit me with it. Please.

Auti, would you like some grapefruit? I don't know how else to ask.

I don't believe it. I was just flamed out of the chatroom. I don't usually use names when I discuss incidents, but SHAKTI has to be put on blast! Dig this:

I'm minding my own business, as I always do about this time. I log on, check my favorite blogs, then head to the chatroom to see if any of my droogs are there. All was good until the chatroom thing. As I entered, I was greeted. I replied 'howdy'. Not for any reason, that's what came to me to type so I did. I was asked if I was a cowboy. I had to reply honestly in the negative. Actually, I said, 'No. Just tired.' To further explain, I also added that I had no idea what one had to do with the other. If you regularly read me, you know my fingers have a mind of their own, and here's where I let them use it.

I don't know who SHAKTI is. I don't even know if they are male or female. I don't care anymore, but I plan to use some language that may appear to be gender specific. Please understand that it isn't. I just like these words.

Would you believe this bastard had the nerve to say that they don't like me? Who the fuck are you anyway? There was some mention that they were in a deep conversation before I got there. That's not my problem. If you want privacy, use a messenger. Don't go to a public chatroom AssClown.

I do have to admit, I did act out. I told SHAKTI that 'arguing over the internet is like the special olympics. Even if you win, you're still retarded.' Juvenile, I know, but it felt really good! I still don't belive the nerve of this asshole SHAKTI. I get along with everyone. Just because someone boiled his/her bunny, doesn't mean they should give me shit.

Oh well. I can't go on with this anymore. I'm over it. I don't feel this is up to my usual standards, but it will have to serve as today's entry. I've got lots of things to do in the morning. I'll see you all again tomorrow.

SHAKTI, did you ever notice that the same breath we use to cool our coffee serves to warm our hands also? Hot air my ass. Piss off! I'm just serious...