The news of rapper Nate Dogg’s untimely death hit me a little harder than you might expect.
No, I didn’t cry or wear all black. But I did stop for a moment, just to think, and surf YouTube for all my favorite Nate Dogg hits. If you’re not a part of the hip-hop crowd, Nate Dogg’s name doesn’t do him justice: funny name, legit talent.
His voice is iconic, and while he was successful in his own right, he was often the “go-to” guy for hooks on tracks that would become number one.
So, play a lil Nate Dogg today, for the homies.
Now, onto the “regulate” portion of this blog. I’m getting a little sick of people who I don’t talk to face-to-face, talking to be through online chatting mechanisms. Please don’t get the wrong idea here and think I’m annoyed by any of you—that’s not the case at all.
I have two examples to plead my case.
Example one: Darrell and Darnell.
They are twin brothers. No, seriously. They are big and black and twins. And their names are like…the same. Honestly, I don’t even know how I know them. I think one of them had a class with me in college and they both used to read a sex column I wrote for my college paper—so they both think they know me.
They friended me on Facebook years ago. Yet another instance where I didn’t think it was a big deal, yet now they bug the shit out of me via Facebook chat.
Facebook chat is the antichrist. I used to chat with ShyGuy on there, but now he actually works and never signs on. However, I always forget that I’m even signed on, and the second I go to my profile, up pops Darnell or Darrell.
One of them lives in Texas, another in Florida, not anywhere near me. Yet both of them find it completely necessary to bug me all the time and say inappropriate things.
The conversation will start out normal—hey, what’s up, what are you doing?
I respond short and quick.
Then it’s like, are you dating anyone? I bet it would take an amazing guy to date you. Do you like being in a relationship? Do you miss the company of a man?
I mean who the hell says that shit?
You’re probably sitting there wondering why I don’t just sign off or ignore them completely. Truth be told, I don’t fucking know. I’m a masochist.
The other day, one of them told me he was going to be in town soon and we should hang out. Hrmmmm…yeeeaaahhh, I said.
“I’ve lost like 40 pounds, so I’ll probably look different.”
That’s what his response was.
Uhheeehhhhhh what the fuck? I’m really weird about discussing weight (as we all know from The Great Weight Debacle of 2011) and money, among other things.
Like…was he trying to come on to me? Or was he just fishing for compliments?
I said, “oh.” To which he said, “Is that a good oh or a bad oh?”
Well why does it fucking matter because I haven’t seen you in person in at least four years, if ever, and I never will see you so why are we even having this conversation!!!???!??!!
Example two: Theo.
Theo lives in the same city as Gizzy. Which, as we all know, is across the country from me. He went to the same college as I did, but we’ve never met in person. I met Theo through a guy friend of mine. When Theo and I first started talking, it was through text message and AOL (I’m a fag, I know).
That was two years ago. We talked constantly. But then, he quit talking to everyone for a few months, and I just wrote him off. I found out later that his dad passed away, and instead of telling anyone, he just went into hiding.
But since all of that, we really haven’t talked.
So I’m work the other day, and out of nowhere, comes a message from him on AOL:
“Do you have any recipes for deviled eggs?”
Are you fucking kidding me? Sure, I love to cook and share recipes. But we haven’t talked in months and without so much as a “Hello, how are you?” you’re asking me about picnic delicacies?
I thought for a moment about ignoring him completely. But then I just gave him a “no.”
Frankly, no one actually uses a recipe for deviled eggs. It’s like two ingredients.
“Aww man. I don’t know who else to ask,” he said.
“Google it,” I said.
“But that’s not as fun,” he said.
And that’s where I stopped the dumbest conversation I’ve had all month.
I mean, I’m all about technology. And keeping in touch with people who live far away, and for free! But if we don’t, and have never, talk in person, then get off my shit.
Frankly, there’s only one person that can share my pain and offer the proper backfire. My favorite black bitch, Sheree Whitfield.