If it's not Raven, it's crap...

The following stuff isn't very amusing, feel free to ignore it 1.) I was thinking about my mom today and how she used to get a kick out of watching Good Times *, probably the single most depressing sitcom in television history (seriously, REALLY listen to the words of the song). I should probably get in touch with folks back home. 2.) I also made the discovery today that a friend of mine went way above and beyond the call of duty. I'm touched beyond words. Regardless of what you say, it is a big deal to me. You know who you are. ------------- *= This is the only clip of the Good Times theme that I could find. However, it's from my least favorite era of the show -- which is after James (the father) dies and Florida (the mother) gets remarried and moves to Arizona (?!) leaving her kids in the projects in Chicago. Yeah...and then Janet Jackson joined the cast as the annoying, abused neighbor kid. To top it all off, Thelma traded in her afro for braids...

MissFee : Thanks for the book , the Reese's Pieces plus buttery popcorny goodness, and the mix CD. I've felt like busting out with this song all damn day -- for reals, yo... Also, I'm working on re-redesigning the ol' bliggidy-blizzog...hopefully it'll be done by the weekend. I'm slow at these things, but I think it's maybe finally coming together. That was a note for everyone, by the way. Good God, I'm incredibly nerdtastic.

Oats gone wild. Disclaimer (of sorts) : I've been wanting to write this post for some time now, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that (A) it's entirely possible that some people would take it the wrong way and think that I'm mocking them and (B) it slightly ventures in the territory of much more information than I'd probably like to reveal about myself on the internets. However, I decided that since the people that come to mind in reference to (A) are pretty good friends of mine and would/should realize that really I'm pretty much just making fun of myself and not them, I'd go ahead and write it anyway. As for (B), well...we're all adults here, right? Just foxin with ya, it's not that bad. ( Click Below for More ) A gang of my friends back in the States have been getting engaged/married recently. Surprisingly enough, I've been taking it all in stride. Which kind of leads to the question of "Why wouldn't I be ta

For sale. Click image for details Yesterday evening, Andre stopped by our crib to cook for me and Seven (well, probably more for her, but I reaped some of the chicked winged benefits by association). Anyhow, we were sitting on the couch when I turned to Andre and say (as though I were a bitter middle-aged woman conversing with her notoriously forgetful significant other), "You do remember what day tomorrow is, don't you?" At which point, he placed the chicken wing he was devouring on to his plate, shouted, "Tomorrow's Hug a Mulatto Day !" and proceeded to semi-tackle me. Then he apologized for being a day early. But he was right, today is the Third Annual Hug a Mulatto Day . Hug a Mulatto Day (the Official Holiday of The Revolution) was (perhaps unintentionally) invented by me, as an answer to a survey that I created back in October 2004: Start up a tradition right now and tell us about it: I now declare October 25th "Hug a Mulatto Day," so ju

I dunno, you tell me. Friday afternoon around 12pm, I was sitting at my desk dreaming about how I was gonna go home in three hours, crash until sundown and go off to a party that was being thrown by some of Sarah's neighbors. I was looking forward to this because when they invited me to the party, I was told that it was going to be, "a little bit enormous". Then I got a phone call from my boss, who informed me that there was a hotel room reserved under my name in Braunschweig, so if I wanted to go to the Battle of the Year , then I could stay overnight and not worry about making arrangements to get back to Hamburg the same night/morning. They'd give me the money for the train ticket and I'd catch a ride back to Hamburg with someone on Sunday. Travel and accomodation were probably the main things holding me back from going in the first place. Well, that and me wanting to be a supportive roommate. Anyway, he told me to think about it and call him back, which I did

A few months ago, I embarked on an ambitious mission to take a picture of every sign, product, etc. with the word "Fee" on it. In German, Fee means fairy and is pronounced sorta like fay. It's also better than the English "fee", which, if i have one, it just means money outta my damn pocket. But nothing tops MissFee (pronounced K.T.), my Non-Sexual Life Partner, whose birthday is today. I wanted to post all those Fee Photos today, but I'm a moron and accidentally deleted all of the pictures that I had been saving up since around July . There weren't sooo many, I just usually forget to have my camera on me and it took a few months for the pictures to accumulate. Actually, two of them survived: the one you see above and this gem And...as you can see...this picture doesn't really relate to MissFee at all. Now I feel kinda S.O.L* in terms of a cool birthday message. So, I suppose I will have to (as they say) pull one out of my ass. Here goes: Dear Mis

SupaD (aka Diana Princess of Power ) is my Parallel Universe Self. She pimps out the entirety of the city of Berlin with her Dominican-hotness and does not give a fuck about what you think, 'cause she's real fuckin' gangsta. In addition to the recent relaunch of her website, Visual Osmosis , there are also upcoming screenings of her experimental films in NYC and Chicago: The Goods: "Corporate Practice: Junior Executive Training" in the socially and politically themed gallery exhibition and video screening, Is it a bird, is it a plane? FRIDAY, OCTOBER 20, 2006 Opening reception: 6 pm Video Screening: 8 pm ELASTIC ARTS FOUNDATION GALLERY 2830 N. Milwaukee Ave. (just north of Diversey) Chicago, IL elasticrevolution.com Also, tune into EYE AM Fall 2006 on Manhattan Neighborhood Network (TimeWarner 34/RCN 83) or WORLDWIDE online at MNN.org Experimental, memoir, and documentary film from women filmmakers around the world featuring works by Kristi Ryba, Sasha Waters

Gangsta, gangsta Back in my Smith JYA days, a friend of mine named Bridget lived kind of in the area of the city where I currently live. She always used to talk about how great it was that one could basically get to any place in the city from Barmbek in about 20 minutes travel time. It was this kind of thinking that made Bridget one of the most unpunctual people that I've ever met. However, having moved to this part of town, I can totally understand how one could get this feeling. There are just so many public transportation options to choose from, all basically within a 5 minute walk from my apartment: the U2 and U3 subway lines, the S1 train, and an assload of busses. It's actually started to effect my own punctuality, which is slightly upsetting, but alas, not really the point I'm trying to make.* Most of the time, I end up taking either the U2 or the U3. I don't like to fuck around with the busses, which is somewhat ironic, because I would (threaten to) puree a

The following was written by my younger brother Remy's best friend (and my surrogate little brother) Tunde . I'm reposting it here, since I think it should not be confined to just MySpace (I hope you don't mind, Tunde ): It's good times once again as I continue on my quest to bring sexy back. Went out wit my dudes last night. Ish kinda started off slow, but then for some reason we started drinkin and didn't stop. So long story short, we got pretty lit, my homeboy J in particular. This ninja should've know better than to 1. get to drunk around white people, 2. buy a digital camera. 3. add #1 and 2 together. It was pretty much like a scene off of " Waiting ", which was pretty funny but disturbing. Thank the Lord for $2 Long Islands, that ish is tight, son. But this is pretty much a warning to my other ninjas out there who've recently discovered the joys of alcoholism. No matter how much white people buy you to drink -- know your f'en limit. Oth

Since both Andre and Wonfuzius had abandoned me this weekend for other countries, I was left to my own resources to find fun. Friday night entertainment came courtesy of Mo , but was clueless as to what I was going to do on Saturday. So, I sent off an email to S.A.M III and his girlfriend Lady Anastasia von Etch-a-Sketch (henceforth referred to a Etch ), who's simply a beautiful slice of awesome. After kickin it at S.A.M's place for a bit, we headed off to the Grünspan, which is basically like a rock/metal club. I think the last time that I was there, the D-Mark was still in circulation. But it was host to many a good memory -- including, but not limited to, the discovery of Andre's unique style of dancing. I actually only planned to hang out at S.A.M's apartment and not go to the club, and, as such, wore a thick wool sweater ('cause it's starting to get ass-cold in Hamburg). Not exactly the thing you wear to a club where it's way effing hot inside.

One of the best postcards I've ever gotten from someone who isn't Andre's dad. Salamu Alekum Raven... I don't know what I should tell you about first: the wonderful 95°F weather or the friendliness that one encounters on every corner. People say that America is the land of limitless possibilities, but is it possible to just drive the wrong way down a one-way street or to ask a police officer if you can park right in the middle of the street to pick up something in a shop 6 miles away?! Everything is possible here and the temperature is always over 70°F -- an absolute dream. Peace to Hamburg from the mega-metropolis Cairo, Mo ( Click below for more ) I'd like to think that if I were to have a party where I invited all of my friends that it wouldn't end with some sort of physical altercation between different factions. But then I think about friends of mine, like Sophia , who are basically just professional brawl-starters . I'm not really kidding either, Sop

This post only mentions ice cream one other time Monday evening was spent at Trini-Mutti's place, where we attempted to finish the alcohol leftovers from her recent party. Naturally, this was in celebration of German Unification Day and, as such, we found it completely necessary to drunk dial her father around 12:45am on October 3rd to express our congratulations.* Naturally. Sixteen years is kind of a big deal, you know. Reunified Germany can now legally drink beer. If Reunified Germany were living in the States, it probably would have had its parents call the school secretary to excuse it from class so that it could go get its driver's license. Anyway, I ended up crashing at TM's place and waking up Tuesday at 2:30pm (though I could have sworn it only felt like 10am at the latest). After a tasty "Bio-Breakfast" of pancakes -- made from organic eggs, organic milk, organic flour and topped with organic nutella -- I made my way home. As is kind of usual with hang

Torch ft. Toni L - Wir waren mal Stars (We used to be stars) I'm not quite sure how this article managed to stay off of my radar screen for over a year (It's entirely possible that it didn't and I just forgot about it). Published in August 2005, the author, Ruth Elkins, addresses (or attempts to address) the trend of gangsta rap in Germany and its apparent appeal to the neo-Nazi movement. Fair enough. What surprises me, however, is how poorly researched this article seems to be. It's especially painful, because (as you might be aware) German hip-hop culture is very near and dear to me. In some cases, it seems like Ms. Elkins has got her facts so twisted, that it baffles the mind: [Bushido] has sparked a huge debate in Germany, a country still new to gangsta rap, about how racist and offensive song lyrics can be before they become outright neo-Nazi propaganda. The police and the German equivalent of special branch have monitored the ultra-right rock scene for years...Th

Not exactly a picture of what I was looking for, but amusing nonetheless. I finally managed to get out of bed around 3:30pm (about 2 hours ago). I don't think that's so bad, considering I didn't get home until after 5am. I even managed to change my clothes before attacking my bed -- with a vengance. I say 'attack', as judging from the nice big bruise on my right thigh, the two of us must have exchanged blows and I apparently lost. I need a thicker mattress before people start thinking that I'm being abused. I was at a very entertaining birthday party last night thrown by Sarah , an aquaintance of mine. We don't hang out a lot, but we run in the same social circle. These kinds of parties (where you kind of know the host and maybe a few of the guests) can be sort of hit and miss, but I find if you go with an open mind you can have fun...or at least make your own fun. However, the gathering really exceeded my expectations. First of all, Sarah lives (more or le