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Bobby Bhangra





I found a gray hair in my bangs a few months ago, but my Jamaican cum England cum New Jersey great aunt Sylvia on my father's side wears a blonde hair piece at the age of seventy-eight. She is still married to Frank with whom she renewed her wedding vows taken in 1976 almost three years ago. I was born in a Catholic hospital and went to Catholic school for high school, but perhaps I have some how acquired a more than flirtatious reputation. To figure out the origin of that rumor, the Knights of Columbus would have an easier time figuring how Bob Torricelli put the Fibonacci sequence into his voting record. ED HARDY aside, my mother Chantay and her three brothers attended Catholic school as well and eventually married college sweethearts like my father Bobby. West Indian father with no direct roots in the South or Southeast Asia, I stand accused of getting mileage in a pair of LA Gears high tops with the pink, white, and silver laces on standardized tests. When my nuclear family moved to Orange, my high school friend Camille recounted that those Ceylon rubber soled shoes were called Laugh At Jeers. Our small class used to dance to the OJ Simpson verdict and used to make up volley ball teams in physical education with names like AT&T's "All That and Thensomes" and repeat slang from music videos like "Off the hook." Our small all women's school is still holding up better than Aqua Net in South Orange, New Jersey. I was not aware until now that I "was all in the Kool Aid and did not know the Flava."




Uptown Top Ranking



I am on my second Facebook account. The first account with my first and last name locked me out and continues to accept friends. This is even from friends from college who must have at least seen my messages about having troubles with federal government since 2007. I have received friend requests from names such as "Xtra Butter" and "Ilovelamp" as part of the ongoing harrassment. Today's blue plate special was a Facebook friend request from the youth that caused my younger third cousin to die in January 2001 at a teen party. She died from the youth having a loaded weapon that accidentally misfired in another room. The New York papers interviewed the children at the party and my cousin's mother, my father's cousin, who sang in a reggae band called Althea and Donna when I was born. Asking whether the children thought that her death could be the result of rap music, the rest of mourners in the room listen to our cousins' family friend from Jamaica recount stories of Sharee's career in Jamaican commercials and the wickedness of 'gunmen.' At the time of her death, Sharee was finishing up her eighth grade to attend New York City magnet high school Bronx Science. Her cheerfulness and energy will be dearly missed. However, the youth's friend request was a unwelcomed reminder that Aunt Althea might have had worthwhile vindication of Sharee's death by pressing charges against Even's Bazile and tracing liability to the gun's manufacturer even if it may be Smif' and Wessun.







Auld Lang Syne

Looking forward to the rest of the 2009? This year's forecast hopefully will not bring any more threatening and unpleasant surprises for me.