Friday, August 22, 2008

Guess who's got a new home?

I do.

E-mail me (marlon.a.walker@gmail.com) for the link. I'm trying to shake the haters off!

Holla!

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Making it do what it do


It was pouring down rain when I returned home from the gym, so I figured the Hispanic family standing in the walkway to my apartment building was just waiting for the drops to subside.

That is, until I saw the piñata.

I walked a bit slower, watching as the little boy with the blindfold on his face tried his damnest to get a good crack at the thing, which was hanging from the stairwell in my uncovered apartment walkway.

Damn. They were having a birthday party.


The balloons, the little boombox and the gifts should have been giveaways. But the locale was a bit odd. There they were, about 30 deep, standing in the space that had to be about the size of my first dorm room: about 14 feet long, and 9 feet across. Not to mention there was a big ass staircase in the way.

I was outdone. I was embarrassed for him. I was pissed at his parents.

As I slid my umbrella into its caddy behind my door, I realized I never had the most extravagant affairs. There was the party on the side of grandma's house, limited to cousins in the same age range, all clad in skates and too small clothes, eating cake and racing up and down the 30 feet of pavement beyond the gate. Another time, Mike and I got breakfast -- hash browns, eggs, bacon and pancakes, -- from the Coney Island hand-delivered by our sister. Both great times.

It was about the thought, not the effort behind it.

As I lay down to relax from my three miles run on the treadmill, I heard a loud echoing sound, followed by the crowd roaring. Ol boy, all 50 pounds of him, had managed to defeat the piñata.

I smiled, knowing then just how much fun he was having.

Friday, March 14, 2008

Piggybacking on yesterday...

In the back of the closet, tucked away on the top shelf, sits a plastic container where I keep my memories. I've been known to take more pictures than a little bit, but the jar holds memories only I'd be able to decifer.

The friendship bracelet Smiley left in my car.

It takes me back to the barbeques on the balcony at The Exchange, where I first started hanging with my boys Anwar — aka Smiley — and Will. Where Lazara lived downstairs, and I knew I could go there to get full if I didn't feel like cooking.

The birthday card from mama Sharon.

It was 2004, and I'd just wrecked my car. Sharon's not my richest friend when it comes to money, but she is when it comes to faith. She knew I was hard up, and wanted to do something about it. All it took was that card — and the $75 check inside — to brighten up one of my lowest moments.

My Gold's Gym keychain.

That was the hangout spot for myself and Kara. We were rolling in there doing whatever we could to get fit.

Racquetball? Check.
Elliptical Machine? You know it.
Treadmill? I mean, not fast, but yeah.

It was also the first place I saw her after we fell out. I canceled the membership soon after that encounter. It was hard to run into her in "our" place. We're good now, but I keep it to remind me of what we went through to get where we are in our friendship.

I even took the wrapper off a Hawaiian Punch Lemonade bottle. I'm not gonna say why, but it's a helluva story.

There's also a tennis ball, a durex condom, a 50 cent piece and a cookie box where someone wrote "I Love You," among other things.

Living in a new place can get rough sometimes. But not when I have my world of wonders to maintain me. And, as odd as they are, they help.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Know when to fold 'em...

I pulled a pair of jeans out of the closet to wear on my daily errands Monday. Nevermind the fact that they have a hole in the crotch literally large enough for everything to fall out. They're comfortable. They were the only item I kept when I lost a lot of weight in 2004.

They still fit when I gained it all back in 2006.

I've got t-shirts from programs I did back when I was in high school and other mementos collected along the way. Some of the stuff is just... strange.

Seriously, who keeps a paper peer-graded in 1994 by a deceased classmate? Me.

What say you? What's the oldest thing you have in your house that you just cannot get rid of?

Sunday, March 09, 2008

No better time for a detour

When you're sliding into first, and you feel a sudden burst...
GET OFF THE TREADMILL!
So I was beginning my third mile when the older lady took her position on the treadmill in front of me. I only had 75 cents, so I wasn't fearful she'd mug me.

What she did was far worse.

Five minutes later, I caught a whiff of one of the foulest gas attacks a (wo)man could have. At least I thought it was gas, until the smell didn't go away.

That's when I spotted it.



In the back of her pants, you could clearly see the outline of a diaper. Chick had "used it."

I struggled through my third mile until I just couldn't take it anymore. Moving was not an option. Not only did she smell me out, but others had started scattering for an open window, too.

I've been taking music to the gym to keep me focused. I take a towel to keep (somewhat) dry. The water bottle is to keep me hydrated.

I never thought I'd need nose plugs.

Yeah, I wrote this for the wight loss blog, but I'm putting it here, too, since I want everybody to know of my situation... lol

Friday, March 07, 2008

Lost in translation

I opened up my phone expecting another text from a new friend, but the contents of the message made me cringe:

I just made you open your phone for nothing. Its great having your ass in check. Whose my Bitch? Youre my Bitch. Now close it...

Nevermind there's enough errors in there to make me clown the sender. It was from my 17-year-old nephew.

My 17-year-old "still in high school needs a job or a college acceptance letter in the next three months" nephew. My "old enough to curse at me, but young enough to still be calling me uncle" nephew.

I shot off a reply, to which he laughed, or lol-ed.

I was seething.

Whatever happened to knowing your role, and how to act in front of elders?

Nevermind I have 11 uncles and aunts who probably don't even know I've lost my virginity.

Why should I not be upset? Is there any excuse for the text? Maybe I should chalk it up, like his mother did when I told her two weeks ago about his signature line on his text messages.

"True Nigga."

Maybe I should let him be who he wants to be. Then again, my uncle would've beat the hell out of me for sending him either message.

I looked up cheap fares online, and the lowest I could find was $450. And even THAT was for two weeks in advance.

For now, he'll live. At least til Memorial Day.

Thursday, March 06, 2008

What I can't stand...

I hate people who renig. If you make up your mind about something, why don't you stick to it?

I ran into a girl who I was "hanging out" with when I first got to town. Let's just say we didn't part on good terms.

More like she told me to leave her alone.

But there I was, standing in line to get a book at Barnes & Noble, and she approaches me.

"HEY you!" she said, trying to look into my arms for a peek at what I was buying.

I ignored it. I mean, I keep the voicemail she left me months ago as a reminder.

"OH, SO YOU CAN'T SPEAK?" she responded.

I didn't. I acted like I didn't know who she was talking to. When she kept going, I pulled out my earphones, cranking the mp3 player loud. I'd rather listen to Keyshia Cole scream than to hear what ol' girl had to say.

Don't blame me for your indiscretions. Blame the fact that you couldn't keep up with your own words and vows.

I had a girl break up with me and not call me for months, then have the audacity to say she wondered whether I would speak to her if we ever ran into each other.

DUH! It was your idea to stop talking in the first place...