8.24.2011

Formsprung- Season 2

What's good umf'ers! The bad news is I only got one question this week. The good news is it was enough for a post in itself. Here we go...


I know you have a story from the Great Northeast Earthquake of 2011.

Of course.

The time was around 2:00 sometime. I was working on my big secret(ish) project here at my desk on the 11th floor of this near-hundred year old building on the East Coast when I began to feel really lightheaded and the room started to sway back and forth around me. For about a quarter of a second, I chalked it up to drunkenness and just continued typing.

Then, it hit me...wait just a damn second, I'm not drunk at all...I haven't touched a drop all day (well, since the sun came up)! Maybe one of the jokes I just typed was so funny that the room I was in had a chuckle at it too...but more than likely, the entire building was actually shaking. I looked up at my supervisor with what had to be the single most fucked up look I've ever arranged my face into and saw that she had a similar look on hers. This confirmed that indeed, my workplace was vibrating.

I knew then I had to devise a plan, and thankfully my muses did not fail me...I decided to put my feet under me and get the fuck out of there at once. (I couldn't help thinking of that age-old question, if your house was on fire and you only had time to save a few things, what would they be? I found out for a fact that those items were "my smartphone, my fitted, and my black ass.")

After I alerted my co-workers that they might want to adopt a similar course of action, then headed for the reinforced concrete stairway. (Many of them elected to pack into the elevator in this emergency...I can see the thought process... "Oh, I'm standing in a life-size game of Jenga being played by someone with the meth shakes? I know what I'll do! I'll get into this small metal room suspended hundreds of feet above the ground from a cord with about 20 of my best friends and we'll all be saved together!")

People from lower floors acted like they didn't want their fucking lives, walking slowly down the 20+ flights of stairs needed to get out of the building...of course I, being reasonably intelligent, did everything but trample them on my way out, instead using a series of polite jukes and passes to be one of the first people out of the undulating building and onto the sweet, sweet sidewalk. Of course, by then it was all over...but I can't say I'll ever forget yesterday. (Yes, the fact that I have a lifetime memory involving this job now makes me wish the shaking had an Etch-a-Sketch effect on me, quaking 3 or 4 years of bad memories and wasted time out of my mind like a clean slate...but I digress.)

There you go...you just spent 5 or 10 minutes reading about the most interesting 30 seconds of my life. Sometimes things just shake out that way, I guess. I made a couple Facebook statuses, had a couple extra drinks last night, and moved on, hoping to never experience that again...in Philly. If I want to be in an earthquake, I'll move to Southern Cali...at least the weather is nicer (and they don't shoot up buses).

Who says less ain't more? Hopefully I get a few more next time, but hey...at least I have time to finish what I was working on yesterday before I was rudely interrupted by tectonic plates and shit fuckin' around. If you want to ask a question for next week, just find the blue question box >over there> or just hit the express link:


any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

Formsprung- Season 2

What's good umf'ers! The bad news is I only got one question this week. The good news is it was enough for a post in itself. Here we go...


I know you have a story from the Great Northeast Earthquake of 2011.

Of course.

The time was around 2:00 sometime. I was working on my big secret(ish) project here at my desk on the 11th floor of this near-hundred year old building on the East Coast when I began to feel really lightheaded and the room started to sway back and forth around me. For about a quarter of a second, I chalked it up to drunkenness and just continued typing.

Then, it hit me...wait just a damn second, I'm not drunk at all...I haven't touched a drop all day (well, since the sun came up)! Either one of the jokes I just typed was so funny that the room I was in had a chuckle at it too...but more than likely, the entire building was actually shaking. I looked up at my supervisor with what had to be the single most fucked up look I've ever arranged my face into and saw that she had a similar look on hers. This confirmed that indeed, my workplace was vibrating.

I knew then I had to devise a plan, and thankfully my muses did not fail me...I decided to put my feet under me and get the fuck out of there at once. (I couldn't help thinking of that age-old question, if your house was on fire and you only had time to save a few things, what would they be? I found out for a fact that those items were "my smartphone, my fitted, and my black ass.")

After I alerted my co-workers that they might want to adopt a similar course of action, then headed for the reinforced concrete stairway. (Many of them elected to pack into the elevator in this emergency...I can see the thought process... "Oh, I'm standing in a life-size game of Jenga being played by someone with the meth shakes? I know what I'll do! I'll get into this small metal room suspended hundreds of feet above the ground from a cord with about 20 of my best friends and we'll all be saved together!")

People from lower floors acted like they didn't want their fucking lives, walking slowly down the 20+ flights of stairs needed to get out of the building...of course I, being reasonably intelligent, did everything but trample them on my way out, instead using a series of polite jukes and passes to be one of the first people out of the undulating building and onto the sweet, sweet sidewalk. Of course, by then it was all over...but I can't say I'll ever forget yesterday. (Yes, the fact that I have a lifetime memory involving this job now makes me wish the shaking had an Etch-a-Sketch effect on me, quaking 3 or 4 years of bad memories and wasted time out of my mind like a clean slate...but I digress.)

There you go...you just spent 5 or 10 minutes reading about the most interesting 30 seconds of my life. Sometimes things just shake out that way, I guess. I made a couple Facebook statuses, had a couple extra drinks last night, and moved on, hoping to never experience that again...in Philly. If I want to be in an earthquake, I'll move to Southern Cali...at least the weather is nicer (and they don't shoot up buses).

Who says less ain't more? Hopefully I get a few more next time, but hey...at least I have time to finish what I was working on yesterday before I was rudely interrupted by tectonic plates and shit fuckin' around. If you want to ask a question for next week, just find the blue question box >over there> or just hit the express link:


any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

8.17.2011

Formsprung- Season 2



What's good umf'ers? If you don't know what this is by now...

Still no Twitter?
lol thanks for noticing! If somebody gives me 7 really, really, REALLY good reasons to do so without using the word "follow", I'll do it. That's as far as I'm willing to go.

How'd you like Watch the Throne?
I haven't heard the whole album yet, but it's way better than most of the other shit floating around right now. One beef though...that cover...whoa. Fright night.


Now that Jayz and Kanye have found a new way to combat leakers, will the music industry change?
Nope...and here's why.

1) Did you see what they had to go through to keep it under wraps? Locked suitcases, secret hard drives, offsite data storage, government-strength encryption...it was like nuclear launch codes. Nobody's doing that for every album, but Agents Jay and K can afford it...can you see some random ass career mixtaper doing the same?

2) People will figure out a way around it...just ask the movie industry.

How depressed do you get when you see rich people livin life like jay and Kanye and then we're struggling working dead end jobs?
I don't get depressed when I see a dude that legitmately worked hard and used his skills to be successful, because I don't want anybody doing that to me WHEN I do it. However, when I see some unfunny hack doing what I do, clearly doing it badly, and making way more money than me to do it while I make pennies to do something I don't care about...that's what chaps my balls. Fuck that no-talent assclown (and by now, you KNOW who I'm talking about).


What celeb would you pay a dollar to slap the shit out of them?
Holy shit that's a deal! How many dollars can I use?! Crockett is the latest to hit my "hate list", but I'm not sure he even qualifies as a celebrity. DeSean Jackson? Usher? Justin Beiber? Billy Ray Cyrus? Nicki Minaj? Charlie Sheen? Eli Manning? DJ Khaled? Carlos Mencia? You know what...can I buy 10 slaps and get a couple free?

What was your last good deed?
My last good deed...hmm...about a month back, I was in line at the ATM and the lady before me finished her transaction, calmly tucked her head up her ass, and walked away without her credit card. After Googling "ways to use a found credit card" and finding out they were all illegal, I ran her down and returned it (and I was kidding about the identity theft part, in case the cops are reading this).

Oh, and if it counts (and apparently it does nowadays) I held the door for an old lady earlier this week. She looked at me like I had just given her 5 dollars and said "that's so rare nowadays, you're such a gentleman!" before walking away with an apparently restored faith in humanity. I didn't know that had fallen by the wayside...we should all be a tiny bit ashamed.


did you see they found DNA on that space rock?
Yup...I want to see somebody tell me there's no such thing as aliens now!


!!!!NEW ORLEANS!!!!
lol where were you last week?

What do you deal with these chicks who have god complexes, like you 're wasting your time approaching them?
I know the type...trust me, you are wasting your time. I learned that a few years ago back in high school...the good part is they have about 10 years max to act like that, and that's IF they don't pop out a few pups and get fat as the queen of all manatees, hit hard times and get bummy, or just generally fall off beforehand. Trust, dude...ignore them, nothing makes those bitches feel worse than knowing not EVERYBODY's world orbits them.

What was the last interesting convo you had about and with who?
I had a nice long conversation yesterday with my boy Tone here at the job about my current screenplay and a couple other ideas for 3D projects I'm bouncing off of him...I got a hell of a lot out of it. I really, really wish I could tell you and umf about it but...the internet, ya know?

WHy do females like lightskinned dudes more than us brown ones?
You're talking to the wrong females...women LOVE chocolate. Work that to your advantage, my brown brotha.

Males getting pedicures? YAY OR NAY
I know the whole metro new age thing is in now, but I can't endorse that. Toe separators are just not masculine.

Do you think about your parents dying?
As a matter of fact, I do sometimes. Not to be morbid, it's just that I know that if I'm lucky, they'll go before I do. I'm expecting it in the back of my mind somewhere. I often wonder what I'll feel like, what I'll do, what'll happen to my sick sister...then I remember how lucky I was to have both of mine around for 23 years in the first place. That and the realization that no parent should have to bury their child usually help me work through the thoughts. Either way, I think I'll call my mommy today...

what are you afraid of?
Failure, irrelevancy, and bees...and I haven't even decided what order those go in.

J Cole Yay or Nay
Who dat? haha na, I like his shit...definite yay.

how often do you cry?
Not very...occasionally when the Cowboys lose (and as you can imagine, I was out of tears by about October of last season) and every so often a single drop of molten lava will blaze down the side of my face right before I explode in anger at something or other...but really, not often at all. Come on, I'm a guy...

WHY IS JADAKISS AS HARD AS IT GETS???
Out of necessity based on certain environmental realities that Mr. Kiss was likely exposed to during his formative years. The standard defense mechanism for coping with these negative sitmuli is to develop an emotional shield and present a tough and durable, i.e. "hard" persona to the world to avoid the pain that life can cause. Mr. Kiss, as he frequently expresses in his lyrics, is no stranger to gritty urban adeversity...thus, to survive, he must be much harder than your average person...in fact, as hard as it gets. That's why...well, either that or Viagra, I don't get into his business all like that.

(I want to let y'all know that's the 3rd time I've gotten that question in about a year and a half, and pride myself on providing a different answer every time haha)


Are you satisified with your life so far?
You ask me this question as I sit here as pretty much an utter unaccomplished nobody at my meaningless job doing something a monkey could do (for pay he likely wouldn't be able to put bananas on his family's table with), 2 and a half hours before I take public transportation (and hope I don't get shot on it) back to my 1 bedroom apartment in the heart of beautiful West Philly. I think it's safe to say "no".

Besides, Affion Crockett's ass having a TV show while I can't even get 100 readers or *likes* pretty much fucked any chance I had of pretending I was satisfied right up the ass. Definitely safe to say "no". "Fuck no", in fact.

Thanks for another great week of questions! I swear, y'all never run out of the good shit...great episode this week! (It's the 75th, if that matters haha...) Aight, if you want to ask one for next week, get familiar with the question box >over there> or..you know how links work, right? 

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...


8.15.2011

Drunk with the Clicker: In The Flow


*fittedwearer's note: yes, I did bring this entire section back just for this.

So over the past few weeks watching various things on Fox (Family Guy and those other cartoons that look a lot like it) I've seen a few...hundred...thousand...commercials for this new sketch comedy show, "In The Flow", with  ex-Wildin' Out member Affion Crockett (if you don't know him, you don't need to). Before it's premiere airing last night, the network anointed him over and over as "the next biggest star in comedy"...as that's the spot I want, I decided to check out the competition. Honestly, the commercials didn't look that funny at all, and originally, I had planned to spend about 5 or 10 minutes watching it just for the old S and G. What followed was one of the most memorable hours of my life.

Not because the show was any good, mind you. I'll at least save you the suspense of a review and say "it fuckin' sucked", if that's what you've come for. What I'm going to share today is a loose account of my experience watching the show, in an effort to prove that man not only deserves no broadcast programming time whatsoever, he should be suspended from YouTube, have his Twitter account shut down, slapped in the Facebook, put under review by the NAACP and forced to go 3 rounds in an MMA match with a person who is actually funny, with the proceeds going to a charity for starving but talented comics. I can never recall laughing less at something that was supposed to be funny. Comedy in general is hit or miss...but when you're striking out every time you pick up a bat, you need to hit the showers. Case in point:

9:03 pm- After one last airing of the promo spot for the show (and a heated internal dialogue involving my anti-sheep sensibilities clashing with my desire to see things crash and burn), I decided to give the man 5 minutes of my time. I had a powerful suspicion I would not care for his comedy stylings at all, as they mostly consisted of doing his best imitation of Dave Chappelle's mildly retarded cousin, but had to confirm that it would be as bad as I thought going in. As it turned out, it was worse...

9:07 pm- Midway through a very uninspired Tiger Woods comeback skit involving Tigs playing miniature golf to cure his wayward game (and making a few awful sex jokes in the process...come on man, it's been damn near a year, all the good ones were already used), I realized that if this was what they were opening with, the tank wasn't too full. Just how bad would this get?

9:12 pm- A new low. Not content with not being funny, he decides to not be funny and pimp a struggling fellow network show at the same time. He asked the audience what the number 1 show on Fox was, and of course they all responded, in unison..."American Idol"! (Forget that that show has fallen off to the point where it's less a TV talent show and more the broadcast version of herpes, something that just keeps coming back no matter how much nobody wants it...Idol's #1!) This was a perfect opportunity for Crockett to unleash his next comedy innovation...discarded American Idol judge audition tapes! He used this segment in not one, but both episodes, implying that this will be a running segment for everyone who loved the show to enjoy every time they tune in...so both of y'all should be very pleased.

Of course, this was merely a thin premise used so he could bust out a few of his imitations...first up was "Manny Paquiao" (Everyone who doesn't watch boxing just went "huh?"...and for good reason) who showed up, spoke bad English, threw some shadow punches, and left, before later appearances from "Drake", "Chris Rock", and "Nicki Minaj", whose appearance was especially unimaginative. (I mean, "Nicki Minaj" is right below "the next person who will kick me in the nuts" on my "favorite people" list...if you can't make me laugh at a parody of her, you suck.) I couldn't help but think Fox execs had him wrap the skits around American Idol to remind people it still comes on.

9:15 pm- Still awaiting my first chuckle, I saw a real dud of a Twilight parody following a light brown skinned man (Crockett) named "HiLight", who recieves special treatment based on his fair skin tone...because that's a healthy thing to encourage and all. I didn't know where the skit was going when it started, and that's exactly where it ended up.

9:17 pm- A skit called "Wake-Up Call", where 2 hotel employees deride a patron who asked to be woken up at a specific time, using the line "Wake-Up Call!" as an opener (She didn't go for the obvious comeback "wake up call, you work behind the desk at a hotel making the same money as an immigrant day laborer!"). The jokes are harmless enough, I've heard better on a few schoolyards, but the real danger in this skit is in its potential to be quoted in real life with even less funny jokes. I can almost guarantee that the first person to use "wake up call" to preface an insult to me will need one, because I'm putting they ass to sleep.


9:23 pm- The funniest part of the hour, an Orbit commercial involving a man bobbing for apples and coming up with a man's thong in his mouth. How bout them apples, indeed.

9:27 pm- I decided I couldn't stomach any more of this on an empty one, and decided making myself some food was a better use of my time than anything on the show...so I went about it.

9:38 pm- Next up is "Afritar", an Avatar parody involving the jungle, marijuana, and a guest appearance from Snoop Dogg (the real one). Hilarious, if only to see Snoop in a blue jumpsuit and face paint looking like Negro Smurf. Okay, "hilarious" is strong...I smirked upon seeing Mr. Dogg and that was it...but compared to everything else, it was uproariously funny.

9:40 pm- During some terrible skit that I've repressed like a bad childhood memory, I found myself wondering how he got a TV show at all. The only possible explanations were blackmail or fellatio...and I still haven't decided which.

9:42 pm- The one that probably will have people talking about the show if it will be talked about, the Obama skit. It purported to show what our president was like during his time to himself and featured Crockett with extremely blackened lips that looked like he was trying to imply that Barack Obama uses a car cigarette lighter as ChapStick. Of course, the skit went to all the most obvious places, Barry O was depicted drinking malt liquor, smoking oversized joints, shooting dice, dancing around with his rough-looking homies, and generally cooning around. I think this skit set my people so far back, CPT will now be referred to as "Crockett Time". One thought ran across my mind as I continued to watch this painfully unfunny display of pandering self-hatred..."doesn't he get enough of this from white people?"

9:52 pm- After a skit about conscious rapper Common's new cold medicine, a joke that barely deserves a Facebook status, let alone 3 minutes of screen time, it was time for the grand finale, "Skinny Paint". This sketch was a monument to homoeroticism, following a group of young rappers who have ditched their skinny jeans (which are for girls anyway) in favor of simply painting their bottom half in fashion colors and flailing around with their legs spread. The network-mandated blurs weren't enough for a viewer not to be able to tell that they were actually naked from the waist down. It was less funny than powerfully uncomfortable to watch...I felt like my eyes had been raped by the time the show was over. When someone compares your comedic display to sexual assault, you generally didn't do too good a job.

I came away from the show with a sickening feeling that life was unfair. I knew then how talented amateur chefs feel when they see Rachael Ray's screechy, non-chopping ass making 500 grand an episode, how decent women might feel about bitches on reality TV or how Mexicans must feel about Carlos Mencia. I felt, firsthand, the totally justified feeling that someone is nowhere as good as me at what I do and is far more successful than me at it. In short, the comedy show left me feeling worse than I did before I watched it. By definition, that's all the review you should ever need. Fuck you, Affion Crockett.

8.12.2011

Bitches ain't Shit: a letter to the otherside


*fittedwearer's note: Even though I severely doubt it, I'm willing to accept the possibility that this is just a statistical anomaly involving a random glut of really shot out chicks living within the Philadelphia city limits...but other than that, I mean the living hell out of everything I'm about to type.

I know I spend a lot of time ragging on the females of my generation...it's not my fault, many are some of the most fucked up persons ever to touch 2 feet to the surface of the Earth. I mean, females have always been crazy (yes, all of you...and the likable ones just contain a form of craziness compatible with whoever likes them), but that's old-school crazy. We've dealt with that as men for thousands of years, and loved them anyway.

No, this is a new breed of bitch entirely...self-centered, entitled, profligate, irresponsible, unstable, lacking any kind of goals or direction, totally undomesticated (I mean that in both the homemaker sense and the sense that they can't be brought inside a place where other people are without a regrettable incident), attention whoring and whore whoring, all served with a side of Beyonce-flavored superwoman (or Bizarro Bitch, in this case) attitude that is almost inexplicable when paired with the other attributes that many of them possess.

In short, those bitches ain't shit. You hear no shortage of men willing to attest to this....and why not, it's true! In fact, I'd hazard a guess that well over 75% of the female population of an average city (or just this one) holds absolutely no merit other than what you can see. However, every so almost never, one encounters a female with her head pointing at the correct angle.

She, with her caring ways, sensible nature, functioning moral compass, talents, independent attitude AND capabilities, and...all the other stuff that's the opposite of those bad things I wrote before...should be honored and celebrated. In fact, she's exempt from the "bitches ain't shit" theory at large...she's not a bitch at all, she's a real woman! Many don't take the time to make that distinction...I will.

Dear real women,

Fuck you, you dippy, fraudulent broad. (Sorry, had to scare off all the chicks who don't deserve to read this letter but just spent the last 2 paragraphs going "oh, that's me!" Stop reading this. Kill yourself. You're part of why a lot of us have trouble with this distinction now.)

Okay, now that the riff-raff is gone, I can say what I have to say. I wanted to let y'all know that somebody out here appreciates what you're doing. Seriously, you stand out from the crowd like the rest of the world is black-and-white and you're in HD. If you deserve to read this letter, you're beautiful. You may or may not be physically attractive, but let me tell you your beauty is beyond question.

It can't be easy to live in a fucked up world and remain an unfucked person, but I'm asking you to try. I know there's not a lot of reasons for you to be the way you are nowadays, with everyone around you acting a damn fool and seemingly being rewarded for it...but it's very refreshing to still have slivers of faith in femalekind, and it's all because of ladies like you.

My mommy told me you existed. She told me what to look for in a woman...unfortunately, the only benefit many of your peers have is the only one my mommy would likely never tell me to look for (and if she did, that would have made a very awkward conversation). Not you. You're different. You have merit as a person. You can hold a conversation, speak in sentences with more than 4 words...hell, I'm even interested in you when your nipples aren't showing.

You may be a college student trying to make it, trying to start a career, attempting to raise a reasonably well-adjusted child, or otherwise trying to take over the world...whatever it is, I respect it. You know why? Because it's not "nothing". There's nothing sexy about a lack of ambition, and yours looks good on you.

I know a lot of guys can't or won't see it. They'll go right for the smoking-hot but otherwise worthless bitch and pass right over your ideal self, then when she flakes off we say "bitches ain't shit" and wish we had a good woman...meanwhile the luckiest of us could have had you all along.

Of course, by the time we figure out happiness is greater than hotness, we're usually all a little older and you've found someone who can appreciate all your gifts, leaving us shit out of luck. It's the same thing I (rightfully) accuse females of doing with "nice guys"....but trust me, anyone who can't appreciate your gifts and presence shouldn't be someone whose party you're interested in, anyway. I refuse to be that guy, and that's why I'm writing this.

Really, I just want you to know how valuable you can be. You are the rarest of finds nowadays. Gold prices skyrocket in uncertain times...when our new-age currency  loses worth, people find security in it. A similar effect happens in the romantic world...when our new-age currency of temporary affection and serial orgasms loses worth, people find security in the love of a good partner. When global shortages like this one go down, the worth of a decent woman is astronomical. Realize that you're premium goods and that you deserve better than sale rack shoppers...most of the guys who complain that "bitches ain't shit" ain't shit themselves. 

I beg the few who were qualified to read this, don't change. Most of the men you run across won't deserve it at all, but eventually one might and you can't risk shortchanging a guy like that. A pretty girl or a fine bitch is a good look on your arm at a cookout, at a fancy restaurant, or taking a kinetic nap in between your thighs. A beautiful woman is a good look in your life.

I recognize the difference, and believe it or not, a few other guys do too. Once a good girl goes bad, she IS gone forever...I'm just asking you not to go. Like I said, it's certainly true that bitches ain't shit...but then again, you're not one at all (the majority of the time), are you? If you can, try and keep it that way...a lucky guy will thank you one day.

Love, 

AJ

8.11.2011

umf by the numbers!


I can barely believe it myself, but I've been talking to y'all (well...I was talking to myself for about a year before some of y'all figured out I was here, but whatever) about any and all manner of everydamnthing for 3 years. Yup, that's right, since August 2008 I've been wasting days of your life 10 or 15 minutes at a time...and like I said in my letter to umf'ers last year, I really couldn't picture my life without it or y'all, real shit. It's been quite a fun time in my life, went through a lot of changes...hell, I'm still making a few...and y'all have been there for the whole ride. I can't add up how much I appreciate that...but even though this experience we refer to as umf is so much more than the sum of its parts, I can at least show my work...so here it is, umf by the numbers!

735- number of posts (excluding this one) on umf.

4- Approximate number, in months, of work time I've wasted to create these 735 streams of my consciousness. The best part about my job is not doing it so I can do this.

49.3- Estimated weight, in ounces, of the amount of herbal medicine it has taken so far to inspire post after post.

5- Times the layout and color scheme of this place has changed. All have been various combinations of blue, silver, and white, the colors of a certain NFL football team.

1.4- Approximate number of times I reference the Dallas Cowboys on umf per week, and that's only in the offseason. That number just went up slightly, as I have just done it twice in the last 4 sentences. It will also increase exponentially, as the season will soon start...go Cowboys!

11- Number of  "field guides" I've written about various things in life, such as hoodrats, surviving city life, smoking weed, cheating on a significant other, and Facebook Ettiquette.

0- other places on the internet you can get that kind of information.

1- number of poems I've written for each of my parents for their individual Parents' Days ("Pop Culture" and "Mommy!", respectively). My sister also got her own post for her birthday one year. None of the people involved have read their posts, nor will they in the near future.

107- Number of Facebook *likes* for my most *like*able post ever, "Facebook Species- A Field Guide".

Many more than 107- Number of people who probably didn't *like* it too much because they saw their species identified.

361- Number of times the Google search term "how to sound cool on Facebook" has led to umf...it was such a popular term, I felt it was my duty to write a post detailing how to do just that.


74- Weeks of weekly Q&A segment "Formsprung" I've done since I started that. That's over 800 questions! Wow. I'm one lucky SOB for having such inquisitive readers...otherwise I'd actually have to come up with something to write on Wednesdays.

1- times I've been asked what it was like to be black. My 4-part answer to the question might change my life. Trust me, you'll see.


1,442- Number of views on the statistical most popular umf post of all time, "Amsterdammit". Guess I'm not the only one pissed about Amsterdam's law changes. (What law changes? It's Amsterdam, I'm mad and swore never to go there in the post, and apparently so have many others...what do you think changed?)

16- Record number of comments on a single post, "Slut Walk". I also recieved a few very nasty e-mails about my words in the post. I never knew a bunch of filthy sluts could get so offended.

0- Number of times I've been invited back to umfJHS to make anti-bullying speeches. Was it something I said?

2- times I've seen Purple since that fateful day. Both times I fled like Wesley Snipes from the IRS...it's actually a pretty good workout.

8- number of posts celebrating the finer points of my favorite language, English...just to show I'm not all jokes and cuss words.

2- editions of personal made-up word dictionary "High Definitions" I've done so far...and I'm not done. Urban Dictionary ain't got shit on me.

38- Number of posts based on my real, actual, 3D life.

<10- The number of them I'd believe if I wasn't actually there and the main character in the stories.


59- My official number of umf followers. It's been that way for a few months, and it's really annoying to me that I can't find a 60th person to like me and my scribbles.

76- Number of *likes* on the umf Facebook fanpage. It's a start...

5- Number of "AJ's thought of the day" I put on there per week. It ain't easy.

0- Number of tweets I've twatted since declaring my hate for Twitter. #personalintegrity

19- number of my readers who have also become my (AJ's) Facebook friends...the rest of y'all are invited too.

1095- Number of days since my life was irreversably changed, thanks to y'all.

4- in evers, the amount of time I'm going to remember what this time, this site, and you guys meant in the course of my life. A lot of folk say they love their readers...but you know I wouldn't even waste time kicking that bullshit if it wasn't true. Fact.

7. Just because it wouldn't be right it this number didn't appear here somewhere. Thanks for everything, umf'ers!

8.10.2011

Formsprung- Season 2



What's good, y'all? Last week I kinda just skipped this entirely because I only had one question (you guys can still ask those, I'm only semi-retired from this and I'm coming back full-time soon) but I see a few of y'all remembered me this week, so here it is...Formsprung! Let's start with the fruits of my layoff...

how's the movie coming?
I'm actually done with the first draft of the first screenplay...I have a little focus group going, kind of testing the material in the script by letting folk read it (and I guess any of umf'ers who ask can read it too...just send me an email if you want a peek) but it'll be polished and ready to go by the end of the month. I'm actually pretty excited about it...especially since I'm already writing the next 2 or 3 movies in my head :) Thanks for asking!

Kid Cudi Yay or Nay?
Well, I haven't heard too too much of him since his first album, but I did like what I heard...it's was like a whole album of smoke-along songs. I'll give him a yay.



if you were mayor of philly, what would you do about the flash mobs?
Well, they have the right idea by fining the parents, but I don't think it goes far enough. First, we bring back the stocks. You know, that plank of wood with holes for your head and arms that was designed to make you stand in the center of a village and look stupid for a few days? That's what we do with the kids we catch doing the shit, we throw 'em in the stocks for a weekend or so, right in Center City so folk can ride by, ridicule them and maybe toss a rotten fruit or 2 in their direction. With the advent of YouTube, public embarrasment has taken on a whole new dimension. Oh, and if your kid gets picked up more than once, you get clapped up in there right with them. At least you'll be forced to spend some time with them...

have you ever been "exposed" on Facebook?
lol no hahaha...what is there to expose? Just about everything about me is either on there or over here on umf, I don't have too much to hide. What are they going to expose me as? I'm not a down-low brotha, a police informant, or a deadbeat parent...so what? "Exposing Potheads"? "Exposing Cowboys Fans"? "Exposing Camera Phone Ninjas"? I have a feeling I'll be fine...


On a scale from 1-10, how wrong was that guy in the bus shooting video for stepping on the kid?
Yeah, he did kind of trample that poor kid trying to climb on the bus driver's back...I saw that too. Under any normal circumstances, I'd say stepping on a kid is pretty fucked up to the tune of at least an 8.5, but factoring in that 2 people were standing a couple of yards away dumping semi-automatic assault rifle fire directly at his person, I can definitely see the thought process "gee, I'd better get out of the way of those bullets pretty quickly by any means necessary"...so I'll give the guy a 3. You still stepped on the rugrat, man...you should apologize.


You're attacked by a pack of teenagers in the streets of Philadelphia...what do you do?
Well, I'm a pretty big, strong guy and I would sure give it the old college dropout try, but I'm not sure I can beat 10 teenagers by myself on fair ground. However, I have a theory that if you make an example out of the first attacker, the rest will be a little less eager. I'll just grab the first in a bear hug, bite his neck like a zombie, knee him in the nuts multiple and throw him back to his friends...and THEN pull my knife. Crazy? Damn right...but would YOU fight somebody who just did that to one of your homies? Sure, it's better to talk things out...but flashholes don't do too much talking, so I can't either.


why can't males hit females to start with?
Good question. I'm not sure, myself. As movie after movie (and Saturday-morning Spanish variety shows) shows us, it's perfectly fine for them to hit us at their discretion. The standard reasoning goes that we're bigger and stronger and all that and that's why it's different...but I've always been of the opinion that if I walked up to some MMA fighter (likely bigger and stronger than me) and called him all types of names or otherwise provoked him, I stand a reasonable chance at getting my ass kicked, and he's not going to give a damn that he knows he could probably kick my ass. Be clear, I'm not advocating wife-beating here...there are few reasons for anybody to put their hands on anyone else, no matter what sex either of them are...but any reason that's good enough for one should be good enough for the other...we're equal now, right?

Thanks to everyone who asked a question this week! I appreciate y'all carrying a torch of burning questions for me in my quasi-abscence. Aight, that's about all for this week, but if you wanna get one in for next time, the blue question box is still >over there> and...I see a link in your future...

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...




8.08.2011

Surviving Philly- A Field Guide


Philadelphia. From the Latin for "city of brotherly love" (and the American English for "shooting gallery with landmarks"). Birthplace of freedom, former capital of these United States, home of the cheesesteak (and the Eagles, but I try not to hold that against them) my current base of operations and...a very dangerous place. They used to say "if you can make it in New York, you can make it anywhere, but you show me where up there one can get beaten to death outside a courthouse like in ancient Rome or some shit.

My feelings on this place are...mixed, to say the least...but contrary to popular belief, a decent life can be scraped out in this city for as long as one is forced to inhabit it. Below are a few guidelines to help any new residents, as well as Philaveterans who could use some savvying up, make their homes within 10 miles of the Liberty Bell and continue to breathe at the same time...trust me on this, I've lived here a while now (and am currently living to tell the tale!).

Mind your own damn business- It may be the instinct of decent, upstanding folk to vocalize their concern for a stranger's style of dress/social graces/parenting skills. Often, these observations are both truthful and beneficial to the recipient of the advice, and should be freely dispensed to all who require it for the betterment of their own lives and the lives of their children.

Well, in Perfectville anyway.

We're here to discuss Philadelphia, where people set up hits on Facebook and call the goons to try and shoot up some guy who said you maybe shouldn't slap and cuss out your infant child...as well as everyone on the bus with him at the time...so maybe it's best to keep your commentary to yourself right then. If you must act, be like me and take a silent picture of them to ridicule with your friends later...it's about 87% as satisfying and nowhere near as deadly.

Huge packs of schoolkids = trouble- If you find yourself here and see a throng of 20+ rowdy 15 year olds walking toward you, they ain't going caroling. That collective of hormonally imbalanced teens just might be what they call a "flash mob" around here (even though I prefer to call them "flashholes" to differentiate them from the YouTube folk who just want to do the Thriller dance in a public area) and they exist for only one reason...to fuck shit up.

People, property, police, whoever gets in their way...they've brutally attacked a few people just this month (yes, I'm aware today is August 8th) and their sheer numbers can be overwhelming. They form quickly and disperse just as fast, so follow the tsunami rule...if you see one beginning to swell, get the fuck out of there.

Avoid neighborhoods with directions attached- In the last 50 or so years, I hear they've tried to give various sections of the city cute little names like "Brewerytown" or "Queen Villiage". This is a ploy to fool somewhat dense imports into thinking they're moving into some posh, up and coming new neighborhood...if I hadn't lived here for a while, I would think the Nicetown area was an enjoyable place to live instead of some of the worst square footage in the city. 

However, the old classifications of these neighborhoods were as follows: Center City, North Philly, South Philly, and West Philly (if you're wondering why there's no East Philly, it's because Jersey touched it and the city council voted that rather than pay the enormous sanitation fees, they'd just push it into the Delaware River and be done with it.) and none of the directional areas are good places at all...trust me, I live in West Philly. Philadelphians may note that there IS a SouthWest Philly as well, but as the place has 2 directions in its name, my advice applies double...avoid it twice.

Don't think the cops will help you- They're mostly just for decoration. They busy themselves with acts of public service like robbing bars in uniform after hours, selling confiscated drugs to federal agents, and blaming mysterious black men for phantom shootings to get a beat with more Dunkin' Donuts on it. They'd much rather pat down people coming off the train to see if they have a bag of weed than try putting a handle on one of the country's top 5 murder rates. In fact, unless you're the one breaking the law, you will rarely see a police officer do much else besides pull over bikes in Center City for not using the bike lane.

Consider carrying a weapon- It may be the only way to defend yourself from the various dangers the streets of Philly can present. Mace is okay...for a girl...but hard to aim (and I'm pretty sure some of these weirdos develop immunities to it). Guns are always popular and quite effective, but I personally prefer a knife...they don't jam, are legal to carry without a license, and never run out of ammo, which can be useful when fending off a pack of rabid preteens. Nothing deters an attack like the threat of leaving the encounter with more pockets than you went into it with.

Never wear Cowboys apparel- As young Blue Star Brigadier Jaime Wert found out last year, it is a justification for physical attack (in the minds of some dickheads). The only way I've discovered to negate this effect is to be a large black man that many people will think twice before wantonly fucking with based on his choice of football team.

Be very aware of your surroundings- Keep that neck on a pivot. If possible, keep it spinning 360 degrees. Watch your back, because you never know when some street crazy will get fired from a job he thought he had, board the train you're on and decide to take his bad day out on the side of your head with a claw hammer (yes, this actually happened here...well, minus the backstory, I just had to justify his batshit craziness somehow).

Also, always be prepared to hit the deck at a moment's notice...no longer content with drive-bys, people have taken to standing on the sidewalk firing at public transportation. It's only a matter of time before the reverse is true and someone gets sniped from a moving train car or something. Stay aware, stay alive.



Well, hopefully you enjoyed these handy hints to living and...living in the world's most ironically nicknamed city. Other than "never date a girl named Purple", it's some of the best advice I can give on the subject. (I mean, "City of Brotherly Love"?! *Insert your joke here, I've used all mine for the day!*) For umf, I'm AJ...thank you, and good night.

8.02.2011

PSA: Overexposure

*taps mic*

Well, I've been gone from around here for a while, but I've still been plenty active on Facebook (and find this as an irresistible opportunity to ask you to *like* umf on Facebook) and noticed a little trend on Facebook, "exposing" pages. These exist for the purpose of...well, really it's just making fun of people...and while that's not the worst thing in the world for me, it's the things some folk are saying that are getting my brow all furrowed. It started out with "Exposing Deadbeat Parents" (or maybe not, do I look like a Facebook historian to you?) where people could go to air out their grievances about the irresponsible parents in their lives. I thought that was pretty funny...even had a little celebrity moment when a picture I took of a woman texting on the train with her month-old and completely unrestrained baby balanced precariously on her lap somehow ended up on the page to a chorus of outraged and hilarious comments.

Of course, it didn't stop there. Next, there was "Exposing Sluts of *insert your city here*" (who didn't have to be exposed...apparently it's something to be proud of in twentyleven) then "Exposing Frauds", "Exposing Bitter Baby Mommas", and "Exposing Duck Bitches who Think they Bad" appeared soon thereafter...and that's when a dangerous little thing called "subjectivity" creeped into the equation. As you can imagine, quite a few people were quite upset about having their pictures added to the annals of Facebook ridicule...especially those who did not deserve to be listed. (You can't tell me that at least half of the people who ended up on the pages I just mentioned were contributed by jilted exes/rejected suitors/other varieties of folk with high sodium content.) Feelings got hurt, arguments got started...generally things got way more serious than they should ever really get online.

However, the phenomenon hasn't even reached the full extent of its destructive potential. Nope, with new, even more controversial pages like "Exposing Snitches", "Exposing Down Low Brothas" (that's "gay", for those who don't speak Jet magazine) and "Exposing STD carriers", incredibly lives are now are at stake based on Facebook. (Well, I guess it wouldn't be the first time, but that's still dumber than failing summer school.) People's pictures and personas being attached to concepts like that is no laughing matter...I don't have to tell you that having the wrong people hear that you like to carry on long, informative discussions with the cops in your spare time can be hazardous to your health, true or not. Even having the wrong people get wind of your alleged case of herpes can cripple your love life. (I'm not saying somebody is automatically discounted for appearing on the STD page...but will I think twice? Three times? 4? Will I think for long enough for her to go get tested and come directly back with the results? You're damn right I will. Show me the girlfax.)

I'm just saying, people...this shit is getting way out of hand. Bad things will happen. People will be hurt. Lives and reputations can, will, and likely already have been ruined beyond repair, and that's why this needs to end sooner rather than later. It was good for a couple laughs for a few days, but it's just about run it's course. (Besides, people are running out of ideas now..."Exposing Chubby Chasers", "Exposing Double Dippers"...okay, I made that last one up, but still. I even had an idea for an "Exposing Store Bought Bitches" page where people could go and denounce, with pics, users of stuffed bras, butt-enhancing panties and other kinds of wearable lies for women...but I'll sacrifice it for the cause.) Besides...it's still Facebook...people don't need to be exposed by others...they do it themselves, one status at a time. Let's stop the madness, people.

(Of course, nobody's going to listen to liloleme...but that means I get more excuses to post...lol...)

*flips mic cavalierly into crowd, walks off*