Keeping Up with the JONES

So I got a puppy.

Introducing to the world, Dexter King Jones...or Dex for short.

He's a schnauzer/poodle/terrier mix...or mut for simplicity.

This three-month-old is a bundle of joy, but he has a lot of energy. He can be a bit of a handful, but I'm glad he's a part of Angie and my life.

Also, after five years and ten seasons (spring and fall), I walked away from coaching youth soccer as I begin to transition into the next phase of The Life of Johnny Jones.

Fittingly, our hard fought final contest ended in a 2-2 tie. Of course, we had a lot of fun...after this season - my favorite season ever - it is so hard to walk away, but I figure why not go out on such a high?

I will miss it so much, though. :(

I Finished The Book

I finished reading Steve Harvey's book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man, and I have to admit...it had some good points. He said a lot of things that - for most men - would seem obvious, but which probably needed to be said (or written).

More importantly, he was great about reiterating those points so if a woman has read the book and still fall "victim" then either a) she's an idiot or b) she's a glut for suffering.

I was skeptical about Steve Harvey writing this book, but I think he did a good job.

Advice from Who??? (Part Two)

(note: Please see previous blog to catch up...don't feel like writing a recap)

So after dinner last night with the Misses, I decided to hop over to Barnes & Nobles to purchase the book. I went home and eventually got through half of the book before calling it a night.

I have to admit - so far...so good.

I caught myself wondering, "Women do not know this already? What...they never had a father, brother, homey to give them this insight!?" The answer, I guess, is "No." for a number of women - I assume - if Steve Harvey had to write this book and so many women have bought this book.

One thing that I appreciate about the way the book is written is the way that Steve Harvey (along with his co-author, Denene Millner) reinforce previously mentioned points as you go along in the book. Just so those women really hear what is being said...

Pretty good book and I'll share my overall thoughts once I've finished reading, but I will say this now - as with any self-help book, it's not about reading the lessons, it's about putting the lessons to use. That is what women (and men...) that read this book have to remember about making their situation better.

If you don't change your actions and expectations then you just wasted $23.99.

Advice from Who???

I think Steve Harvey is a very talented guy.

His stand-up comedy specials are always funny; his ventures in television have been marginally successful; and his syndicated radio show strikes me as very entertaining whenever I have a chance to listen to it (it doesn't air in Raleigh-Durham).

However, I cannot wrap my brain around the notion that women are rushing to stores to buy his book, Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man. A book that, surprisingly, is not filled with anecdotal humor. No. It is a relationship book. Geared towards women. From a comedian. A male comedian.

Am I missing something?

To Steve's credit, he admits that he's not a relationship expert. He's an expert at being a man and knowing the way a man thinks. After saying, "Sh*t, me too (expletive)...", under my breath, I decided to take my hater shades off and do something positive instead.

I'm going to BUY and read the book solely to see what all of the fuss is about.

Maybe Mr. Hightower (y'all know y'all remember The Steve Harvey Show on the WB...stop fronting) will be able to help a lot of women gain a better understanding of the male species.

Now, that in itself is funny.

I Know A Lot of Creative People

My dude, Zac, from school has his own production company, The DeMiche, and he also produces these vlogs that are witty, yet thought provoking. Peep this video:

I should've slipped these cats my resume as before I embarked on this real world journey of mine. Damn.

I Need Your Help...

I'm from the South.

The Deep South.

Down in those parts, we speak. To everyone. If eye contact is made - oh, you better speak or else you're written off as rude and/or "stuck up" FOREVER!

So I speak. All the time. Unfortunately, I always say the same thing...everyday.
I need something new. I need options. I need phrases to mix it up. Help ya' boy out! Feel free to leave suggestions. I'm open to anything.

Buy The Book!

My best friend from back home, Michael "Quess?" Moore, is an awesome poet/spoken word artist that published a book, Blind Visionz, a collection of some of his work. You should cop it today - it only cost $12 bucks!

Thanks, Kanyeezy!

I stole this from Kanye's blog.

Kanye mentions that Young Jeezy is one of his favorite artists - can't say he is one of my favorite, but I really enjoyed his last album, The Recession. It is a great listen. Here is the video for "Circulate" one of my favorite songs off the album.

Young Jeezy CIRCULATE (Full Video) from jeezy circulate on Vimeo.

Friday Rant: "Shut the Hell Up!"

I've coached youth league soccer for close to five years now (damn, I'm getting old...) and have enjoyed every moment of it - except for something that irked me as I went to watch one of my soccer players play in a basketball game.

(Yes, I'm such the dedicated coach, aren't I?)

Parents.

Not just any parents, though. Specifically, the know-it-all parent.

The parent who would've been the coach...but, oh uhh cannot give up the time due to work...or, who's only there to help if necessary.

Yet, as soon as they are at their child's game, they turn into Bob Knight and are yelling instructions to not only their own kid (damn the scheme the coach has come up with), but at the other kids on the field/court as well.

I can look past this...to a certain extent.

I get ridiculously peeved, though, at the parent who is overly critical of their child as if he or she is the second coming of Ronaldinho or Tyler Hansbrough.

"You should've been there (kid's name)! That was your fault!"

No lie, I have been at games and heard parents tell their kid this. Tragic. That's when I turn around and say, "Dude, your fat-a**, slow, uncoordinated kid is not on the cusp of greatness! Take it easy!"

OK. I never say this...but I sure think it often when I am at games where a parent or parents are going nuts. These kids just want to have fun - that's the number one rule of every soccer team I've ever coached. These kids should not have to deal with the pressure of remembering what their coach has instructed them to do and live up to the (unrealistic) expectations of an overzealous parent.

I'm not trying to be harsh on this type of parent. I'm just trying to help them help their kid. If you're a parent who suffers from this problem, here's a tip that you should adhere to the next time you're at your kid's game: cheer for your kid and his team or simply...SHUT THE HELL UP!

It Reminded Me...

Growing up as a naive child, I always believed that if you did the right things then you would avoid bad situations.

This belief, however, was rocked in February of 1999 (damn, ten years ago...time flies) when two of my friends and I were pulled out of our vehicles with guns drawn on us, manhandled, and cursed out like you couldn't imagine.

It wasn't a carjacking. We were being apprehended by police officers, a special coalition of officers from around the state of Louisiana brought in to deal with crime during Mardi Gras.

Oh yeh. It was Mardi Gras weekend so we had hundreds of spectators watching us receive such special treatment on New Orleans' Canal Street.

We were stopped because we were suspected of stealing the van that we were riding in.

Eventually, the officers noticed the keys in the ignition and finally heard my friend who repeatedly said, "It's my mom's van - check the glove compartment!" We got up and were given no apology or anything. My friend politely said to the officers, "Look, you can't go around treating people like animals," to which he received this curt response: "Shut the f**k up and get the f**k up out of here!"

My friends (who are brothers) have a mom who knew it wasn't right for anyone - let alone, her sons - to get treated in such a way and she fought hard to, at the least, get us an apology. We eventually had a meeting in June with a higher-up with the Louisiana State Police, the organization at the head of the coalition.

He smiled and shook our heads. Had a look of sympathy when hearing us talk about how embarrassed we were to be viewed as common criminals by the hundreds of folks who passed us by on Canal Street and by the police who apprehended. He told us he would get to the bottom of this. Then, a month later, we each got a letter saying, "...the officers involved did nothing outside of standard procedures."

Standard Procedures!?

Since then, I have to admit, I've been terrified anytime I've gotten stopped by the police - and when I get asked to step out of the vehicle...you would think I was smuggling coke the way I get to shaking.

Specifically, I've gotten stopped the last two times I've been back home (on the same street...both for allegedly running through stop signs...don't think I did either time, but that's neither here or there).

Both times, I was asked to get out of the vehicle...and both times I began shaking like crazy. Can't help it.

In the first instance, Angie was with me along with my little brother and my brother-in-law. After answering every one of the NOPD officer's questions wrong apparently, he noticed me shaking and had to ask Angie (because, honestly, he wouldn't let me finish a sentence), "What is wrong with him!?" Angie told him the story and he (being the d**k that he was) said, "I aint them dudes (along with a lot other BS)...here's your ticket.".

The second time, while riding by myself on Christmas eve, I got stopped again by a couple of Military Police Officers (who are everywhere in New Orleans East) and again was asked to step out of the vehicle. Of course, the shaking drew attention (along with some hyperventilation...maybe it was the thick fog in the air) and I had to give them the very same rundown. They were very sympathetic and we even made a lot of small talk before they told me, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Jones!" and let me go.

I always try to convince myself that I've gotten over that situation and am proven wrong each time I am stopped. I had a spirit of optimism after my last run-in with the law, but as I watched the video of Oscar Grant getting apprehended by officers in the Bay Area...

...I thought about how one wrong, inadvertent move on that festive New Orleans night in February '99 could've been fateful for one of us.

Those fears that I continue to carry are real. They will probably never go away either.

Male Pattern Baldness aka DAMN, DAMN, DAMN!

There was a time...a time that doesn't seem too long ago...that I had hair.

I mean, a lot of hair.

Senior year at Howard U., circa 2003

Then, due to the pressures of conforming to a look that was deemed acceptable by the man (sidebar: if you find that jive turkey, tell him I'm looking for him...), I got a haircut. It wasn't the dreaded look that I had grown to love, but I rocked either a fade or tapered bush quite nicely.

Corporate World Cut, circa 2005

Then...year after year...the hair got thinner - rapidly thinner - forcing the haircuts to get lower and lower...until finally...there was no hair.

Getting My Grown-Man On, circa 2008

No doubt - I hated realizing that I was going bald. Dreaded it.

No pun intended.

I tried to ignore the warning signs. As mentioned, I tried to camouflage it by getting the haircuts lower. However, there was no denying the inevitable. Hell, my Pops is bald so I should have known better.

Sure, folks will lie and tell you, "It's determined by your mom's side of the family." Bullsh*t. All of them jokers still have a head a hair with no signs of push back. No, 'tis I in this lonely club with myself, my father, my cousin - on my dad's side of the family - and one of his brothers (the other still has a full head of hair...grrr!).

The point of all of this, though, is not the fact, that I'm bald, but the fact that maintaining a nice bald look is WAY harder than having dreads, a perfectly manicured fade (shout out to the late 80s!), or any other crazy style that I've been fortunate to rock. Hell, I have to cut my whole head every other day with clippers to keep it clean (BTW, tried this with my T-edgers and I went through two blades in three months - DAMMIT!), or I spend $25 a week to get my barber (gotta get that $20 appointment...plus tip) to cut it where it looks nice Friday through the following Monday and then a bit rough on Tuesday through Thursday before doing it all over again.

After going through $100 a month, I tried to go the ultra-cheap route and buying one of those Mach 7 razors or whatever the hell they advertise them as. I knew I was taking a chance because every time (since puberty, anyway...) that I have placed a razor to my face, I have broken out in bumps, but I thought, "Well, if I moisturize before, during, and after shaving, I should be fine!").

WRONG!

Sure enough, my head was, indeed, as smooth as a baby's bottom (insert that *whew* whistle) for two days...and then it bumped-up like a mother****** on the sides and the back of my head (but not my face - WTF!?) for about a week...just nasty-like!

So, I threw the razor, the shaving gel, and the after shave moisturizer away!

For some foolish reason, I thought keeping my head looking straight would get easy once I began rocking a dome. No one warned me that this would be one of the most frustrating things I encounter on damn near a daily basis.

While we search for cures for all types of ailments and diseases, I long for a day when there is a cure for Male Pattern Baldness. If there was such a research fund to end this travesty that affects so many people (men and women!), I would, without a doubt, donate to it...if a large percentage of my discretionary was not already going towards my clipping.

Matter of fact, I hope that he can fit me in this Friday.

That's My Sister!

My sister represented for her company on this video they produced for Yellow Pages dot com. She's at the 36-seconds remaining mark of the video...you can't miss her. She's very appealing to the eyes so when you see her you'll instantly be mesmerized.

Yes, that is a family trait of ours.

Check out the video here.

Ode to Big Mama

While taking a break during a work day that included me skipping lunch (I’m missing meals, but getting fatter. Go figure…), I decided to go to Foster’s Market in Chapel Hill to satisfy my sweet tooth (OK, that probably explains a lot).

I purchased a brownie and beverage from Foster's and then drove back to work where a dozen or so e-mails were awaiting a response. After responding to e-mails for about 30 minutes, I remembered, “Hey, I got a brownie!”

Pulled off the plastic wrapping and took a bite.

“WWWHHHOOOAAA...”

The brownie had that homemade richness – you know, that taste that screams “I don’t care how much or how many calories it takes for it to taste scrumptious!”

For me, it took me back to the days of going by my great-grandmother’s house in Mobile, Alabama’s Roger Williams Project as a youngster…I’m talking 5- or 6-years-old youngster…and always being greeted by some of her fudge goodness.

My great-grandmother, Irene, was the best.

Like really.

She was the best great-grandmother any kid could ask for.

Whether it was my mom bringing me my sister, CC, by just for a few minutes to say “Hi” or my dad bringing us over to hang for a while, Big Mama – as we called her – always greeted us with a warm, teeth-filled smile (“Heeeeyyyyy Baby!”) and some baked, hard fudge in a plastic bag.

It felt as if even when we showed up unannounced she knew we were coming and had fresh baked fudge for us. We could’ve been minutes away from eating dinner, but Mama or Daddy would let us devour the fudge anyway; and on the chance she didn’t have any fudge for us, she would always have a freeze cup (literally, a cup of frozen Kool-Aid) in the freezer just waiting for us.

Big Mama always made time for us. We were kids, but she always made us feel so important when we were in her presence. She always made us feel welcomed. She always kept our stomachs filled and our sweet tooth happy. She cared. She was the quintessential Big Mama.

Needless to say, I was pretty sad when Big Mama passed away when I was eight years old.

I later learned – not too long ago, actually – that Big Mama was the "candy lady" in the area of Roger Williams that she lived in. She always had those goodies because she sold it to help her get by. That doesn’t take away from my memories of her. I mean, she didn’t have to give them to me and CC for free!

I don’t write this just to shout out my own Big Mama…even though she was the best…but as an ode to all Big Mamas whether they were just a grandmother, an aunt, or a neighbor that held their matriarchal position in the community. All of the Big Mamas that were able to brighten up a kid’s day and ALWAYS had the ability to keep a kid in line through use of words or the rod.

With so many youngsters straight wilin’ in the streets and terrorizing communities, we can use more Big Mamas to be there for these kids that obviously feel hopeless and lost.

I’m just thankful that I had a great Big Mama coming up. When I was around her, I always felt at home.

I Made Up with an Old Friend

Before I ever had a real best friend in life - as in another human being whom I wanted to really get to know and share things with - my closest confidant was probably this 35mm camera that I actually found in a hotel room while on a trip in high school.

It was a like gift from above! It was a sweet camera,too - a black Nikon with a nice enough zoom on it to get some great shots. That camera stayed with me until my senior trip in high school...when while having fun in Orlando, I decided to take it in the beach water and a reasonably high tide splash water into lens, causing it to malfunction.

That came gave me three good years of photos, though, and I used it to photograph EVERYTHING.

My family. New Orleans sites. High School memories. Spiders and spider webs in my grandma's front yard. If I was there to witness it then you best believe I was capturing the moment via photography. I was the school photographer pretty much at both of the high schools I attended; knew how to develop film in the dark room; I used to enter contests everything - I was a beast and even considered becoming a photographer for a living.

Cockiness aside, though, I not only was good at it...I enjoyed it so much.

Then, I just lost the luster. For a couple of reasons - reasons I should probably be sharing with a professional while lying on a couch so I'll just do us all a favor and not go into details.

This summer, though, provided me with a number of moments that I wanted to remember via photography. A trip back home and priceless moments with family. Adventures around and outside the U.S. Seeing sites and meeting people that I may never see again.

I had to capture the moments.

While shooting the shots throughout the summer, I felt an old...something. Camera in hand felt so familiar.

Then, while at a Bun B concert, it was like I reconnected with an old friend. It was a free concert and I was right up on the stage and got some great shots that made me realize how much I missed the art of photography. That something was that "itch" - you know the "itch" I'm talking about - and it was back.

Bun B at The Cat's Cradle, August 18, 2008

Like the other photos on the blog, I shot the photos with a four-year-old Sony Cybershot camera that I *coughs* borrowed from my job. I takes good shots - especially portraits that need no flash. I plan on investing in a more professional model in '09, though, and I hope to take a photography course at The ArtsCenter to get better at photography.

At the moment, though, I'm just glad that I've reconnected with my ol' buddy!

Best Birthday EVER!

So I kicked off my birthday festivities a couple of weeks before the date of my birth - due to a previously planned trip to the West Coast.

It began with a cookout at the crib that the homey, B and Coy, made it up for along with Coy's friend, Jeanette. Nothing out of the ordinary...I have a cookout year-after-year. What made this year so much more fun was that fact that I actually made it out later in the evening to go partying.

I have habitually enjoyed myself a bit too much (*coughs*) at the cookout to make it out on the town. This year was different, though, as we hit up The Office in Raleigh!

B and Coy

Alex made a three hour drive after a 15-hour work day to party with The Kid

A week later, Annie and I hopped a plane to the West Coast to chill in Palm Springs, California.

That's an oxymoron because it was hot as HELL out there. 108 or hotter every single day. Crazy! The place was scenic and serene, though, with mountains in every direction you looked. I love mountains.

The San Jacinto Mountains...I believe

We mostly kicked back with plans to go to L.A. on my birthday. Then...we decided to bring in my birthday in LAS VEGAS, a four-hour drive from the balmy Palm Springs. The Strip and Planet Hollywood were the spots where we brought the party! We met a cool dude name Andy out there who, like us, came to really have a good time. Good times, indeed!

Plus, I don't know how he worked it out...but even Elvis came to party with The Kid.

I don't ask questions.

Vegas buddies, Andy and Elvis

The Joneses on The Vegas Strip, "Happy Birthday to me!"

After a night of frolicking, we woke up and drove it over to Los Angeles for a birthday lunch at Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles.

"We came from three time zones away just to eat here!"


My Howard U., School of C folks know about Mr. Micheaux

After all of this fun, we made our way back to the East Coast.

I've been saying it since I've been back home: this was my best birthday ever! Not only because of the overwhelming fun I had or the great presents that I received - no, solely because of the folks took the time to spend time with The Kid in celebration of my birthday. Who knew turning 27 could be so fun and exciting!?

Now, the plan is to talk my Pops into going along with him on a European trek that he's been pondering for a few years.

Get those fingers crossed!

I Hate To Use This Word, But...

Vacation was awesome.

Five days in New Orleans that included good times with the fam, lots of daiquiris, scrumptious delectable delights, an unprecedented run-in with "The Law" and fun on Bourbon Street. Ahhhh, The Big Easy...

Pops and his kids (and the grandson) on the Fourth of July

The older Jones Kids and the Bro-in-Law on Bourbon

Then it was off to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico for five days of some much needed fun with a little bit of R&R here and there. If you're ever going to Cabo, I definitely recommend the Riu Santa Fe. It's the all-inclusive jump-off, no doubt.

Every morning I would wake up and stare at the view from our balcony...

...it was crazy beautiful.

Speaking of crazy, the drinks were...that's fire under those shots. Birthday shots!

There were bars everywhere we turned, but the best was held down by...

"Gaby! " Gaby not only made great drinks, but she was fun and funny!

We even made friends in Cabo - Andrew and Karen were from Canada and were cool, ay!

Alas, we made our way back to New Orleans for one more day. I had to go and see my sister rack up awards at the Bernard Harris ExxonMobil Summer Science Camp...

Tiara is the smartest out of all of us. She's a star and a future doctor!

...and we HAD to see Gran before leaving!

Angie with her grandmother

We eventually returned to the real world, but we have great memories from vacation to hold us over until the next time we're able to get away for a few days.

Video Guru

Sure, my emphasis in college was technically Radio, TV, and Film...I only focused on radio, though - and I wasn't that great as far as grasping the functionalities while in the classroom.

I learned a lot of my radio/audio skills outside of the classroom either at WHBC, WHUR, or in the real world at WCHL.

I've been clueless about the inner workings of video or film production even though I've always had a sincere interest in the two as much as radio. So, I've been trying to pick up a few things here and there and am teaching myself video production skills.

Here's a video that I consider my first true masterpiece:

Kinda/Sorta

The show is still coming. Life has been EXTREMELY chaotic the past few weeks. I'm still getting in and looking to create change. I, too, struggle just like my constituents.

Need I say more...

Talking Politics

I had an exclusive opportunity to catch up with John Edwards last night as he took in the UNC vs. Clemson basketball game in Chapel Hill, NC.

We go way back.

Seriously, I got talk to the former Senator and Presidential Candidate who still has a significant amount of political clout. What are the secret meetings with Clinton and Obama all about? Who will he endorse? Listen and find out for yourself.

JJJ with Senator John Edwards

(Hey, the interview's not long at all...)

Man, I Was Trippin'

Did you read the debut article on this blog?

You didn't?

Oh. Well, I'll bring you up to speed in one sentence: my dumb a** thought I had a chance in hell to run a 10-mile race. With three months of training.

What the hell was I thinking??? I mean, I really thought I could train for and run a 10-mile frickin' race that takes place in April. Of this year.

No, I'm not on drugs.

I finally got a much-needed dose of reality last Monday when I went running after work in the neighborhood adjacent to my job. Along with a buddy of mine, I was all set to do a solid mile non-stop. You know, crawl before I walk. After about five minutes of running, I felt like I could barely walk. He kept telling me, "C'mon, make it to the stop sign (which was maybe 20 feet away but seemed like 300 yards), but I was in agonizing, alternating pain.

When my shins didn't hurt, my lungs were hurting. I assume from the constant inhaling and exhaling. I (barely) finished the distance...a good mile and a half, but I truly just wanted to just lay down on the sidewalk and go to sleep.

"Is it morning already!?"

I was, physically, feeling so bad and thinking, "How the hell am I going to be able to add 8.5 more miles to my distance within three months???" Didn't sound to realistic so I had to go to the Internet to find information to confirm this notion. Sure enough, some experts suggest training 18 months for a marathon (26.2 miles)...I figure I should give myself about a year to do 10 miles...I mean, I am severely out of shape.

So I am going to do the 5K (3.1 miles) instead. Now, I can train to complete that distance. I figure, training to run that race will kick start my year-long training to complete the 10-mile race in April '09. I feel bad for not sticking to it, but if it's impossible then it's just damn impossible.