Real Men Exfoliate

Come with me on a little journey, if you will. I'm in Walmart, buying body wash. The cashier asks me if I have a girlfriend. At first, I'm kinda flattered, even though the cashier's not that hot, then it hits me why she's asking. I use Dove Body Wash. Dove Extra Moisturizing Body Wash with Gentle Exfoliating Beads to be more specific. And the Dove Gentle Exfoliating Beauty Bar. (for my face. I don't care how gentle Dove says those Exfoliating beads are, if one gets in your eye, its a wrap) Reading this, you must think I have horrible skin problems. I don't. I use Dove, my skin is phenomenal. Am I proud to be a heterosexual man who cares for his body? Yes, and I think I should be. Where is it written that men can't take care of their skin? I lift weights, I run, I exercise, and that's all "manly" (in fact so manly that most chicks who lift weights are afraid of looking like men) but when I decide that I don't want to be wrinkly at 30, suddenly I'm feminine? I shouldn't have to go through the self check-out line and avoid eye contact like I'm buying porn mags every time I want some body wash.

Where and when did this line in the gender sand get drawn? And if I cross it, am I breaking some societal rule and risking being a social pariah? Exfoliating isn't some type of gateway act to being feminine. I'm pretty sure that little girls don't start exfoliating and then puberty hits them. When it comes to gender its set in stone, or more specifically, in DNA. You are what you are. Ask any straight dude if he wants to look good. He'll say yeah, I do. Ask him what he does. Weights. Exercise. But what else? Not much. Up until the nineties, some dudes didn't even shower. How'd we go so wrong? At the turn of the century, being a gentleman was all about fashion and taking care of yourself. Men rocked perfume, bought creams that kept the skin "smooth and supple" and understood that being rough was for poor people. Maybe there was some sort of revolt against the aristocracy of the upper class and so now, unless you're rich, you don't bother with that "uppity hygiene stuff" anymore. Don't worry about revolting against the rich, trust me, they get theirs in full. Haven't you seen Titanic? I bet every employee on that boat got off (with the exception of the captain) and the one poor guy I remember dying was Jack and that's only because of Rose being selfish with that door. (He could've gotten on another piece of debris or something. I watched three hours of movie to see the one dude that was kinda cool die?) But I digress...

All I'm saying is be a man, not a boy. Take care of all of you, not just your muscles, and remember, having soft skin doesn't make YOU soft.

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That's all the stuff I got wrong with me. Enjoy.

So here's something I posted on Facebook. Essentially this came up during a "discussion" about Ben Roethlisberger while I was in class. My professor (the amazingly loud and all around excellent person, Kristen Scroggins) got pretty unhappy with me saying that we can't assume guilt in the case of either party. I basically got chewed out, which is okay with me, I don't do shouting matches. And even if I did, I have no way to actually out loud Mrs. Scroggins. Seriously, she has the lungs of an opera singer. And from what I understand, she actually is a great singer. I wonder if she googles herself frequently. In the event that she does, I want to point out that the fear of her finding me saying horrible things about her doesn't frighten me from saying them. I honestly could not say a bad thing about her. She is the savior of my college career, and I will probably tell stories to my children about what she has done for me and my college career. Anyway, here's my written thoughts. I'll expound a bit more.

My only concern throughout the discussion deals with our legal system being based on assumed innocence until evidence proves otherwise. I'm all for locking up the guilty, and making sure they are punished for their crimes, butdoing so by using due process. If we just start locking people up because they "look guilty", or have had past offenses, what's to stop someone from assuming because I'm black that I must be a criminal, or because you've been convicted, you are incapable of repentance? As a person who's had unpleasant experiences with police on numerous occasions, I dont relish the kind of world that punishes first and asks questions later, because I've seen first hand the effects of assumed guilt, and I know what it feels like to be treated as if I've comitted a crime when I was innocent.

So here's my point. The justice system is flawed. But its what we got. And guess what? Its not getting any better. If you have the money, you could kill your ex wife and her lover, throw the gloves you used, and drive down the the highway the speed limit and be straight. Or be a raging alcoholic and coke addict and get caught multiple times with drugs and alcohol and never do any real time in jail. I know the system is flawed. I could backhand a dude who just hit my car and because I'm poor, I will do extreme amounts of jail time, AND I will probably have to pay dude for his pain and suffering.

This goes back to a conversation my father, his neighbor, and I had about the fact that black people on the whole DO NOT call the police. Its because for years, the police were like the mongooses (mongeese?) to the cobra of the black people. They're the natural predators of black people. Dave Chappelle said it himself, if he got robbed, he wouldn't call the cops because while he doesn't have the nicest house, but its too nice for the cops to believe its his. That's just the point. Are all police like that? No. But do all black people love chicken? No. But enough of us do that it's a stereotype. But I digress.

The justice system is corrupt. But it is what it is. If you want justice at some future point, you really need to start making the money now. Then you too can pull an OJ on your ex wife and her new boyfriend.

So. . .its 4:30 in the morning. I'm tired. And I don't really have anything to "say" per se. I mean I always have something to say, I just have anything to "say". You see the title of this blog contains idea of "Deep Thoughts", Granted the "Other Assorted Candies" part is there, but really, that's just my attempt at being funny. Which, since this is what, year six? seven? is actually kind of an old joke. Like Tony Bennet. BING!

Seriously though, at this point we've all seen We Are The World 25, (in honor of Haiti) and have probably thought, why is Tony Bennett involved in a song that includes, Rihanna, Pink, Akon (which by the way, is short for A Convict) T-Payne, and Little (Lil?) Wayne. Why is Tony Bennett even involved in this masterpiece? And how can that many people singing about Haiti even make a dent with Tony Bennett involved? That guy is pretty much a hazard to the idea of music.

Do I hate Tony Bennett? Of course not! That lounging son of a gun is pretty much the only reason I wake up every morning. See what I did there? (Another old joke. I'm on fire today)

On another note, I'm typing up an updated resume, and I hate to admit it, but it reads like a how to guide to failure through dropping out of college. One of my favorite job interview questions is "So, did you just start school late?" To which I say, "Uh, no, actually I went through an unfortunate drop-out phase." Which I follow up with, "during which I learned more about myself, who I am, and what I want. I worked hard, physical jobs, and while I don't oppose hard work, I have found that my mind will ultimately serve me longer than my body can." See? Prepared. Until someone asks me something other than that one question. (Interviewer: So your name is Javann? Me: Uh. . .I guess. . .is that what I wrote?)

Okay, that's enough rambling for today. Oh AND Star Trek is an awesome movie, but seeing Spock run with those bangs flopping in the wind, PRICELESS."






No, seriously, this is it.





Stop reading.







Go outside and do something with your. . .okay, you know? Keep reading.

Retroblog:
Thursday Jan. 20, 2005
So the running theme is Javann tells stories that make him seem to be a bad person, or at least give some type of enjoyment to the people who come to this site. So what should I tell now?

So here's a story.

I'd set this up, but its much easier to just go into the long and short of it. Here's the scene: my car's in a field, its dark, I can't see my hand in front of my face, and my driver's side front tire is busted. There is no cell phone, and civilization might as well not exist, because I can't see it. Maybe because it was dark? Who knows? The truth of the matter is that I was in a bad fix. Did I mention its 11:00 or so? No? I just did. But I'm Javann. Javann Jones. Man of action and adventure, and this tire has no power to stop me from driving my car. So my first inclination is to get out of the field. I crank my car and it starts and away I go! Right into the curb. And I'm stuck. Then it hits me, to pop a curb you need air in your tires. And my driver's side tire just barely failes to meet that requirement. That's what four years of collegiate education will do for you. As I literally wished death upon myself for my stupidity, I decided I might as well break out the jack and lug wrench and try to make the most of my predicament.

That's when I notice, its cold. Not a problem. I have a jacket. A leather jacket. I'd hate to get that jacket ripped, and my shirt too, so I pull both off and continue in my T-shirt. Sure its cold, but this experience will only be worse if I damage my jacket, or my shirt. At least that's my thought at the moment. I can't even wear that stupid shirt anymore. As I fish around my trunk, throwing books and notebooks aside, I come to a horrid realization. I don't have a lug wrench. I threw my jack aside and dove into my trunk with full fledged passion, because my lug wrench HAS to be in that trunk. This night can not get worse, because if it does, I may have to kill small animals for food. And we all know that won't go over too big with PETA. And I'm all about making PETA happy. Still no lugwrench. I look down the road and I see exactly what I see behind me. Road. Great. I grab my jacket, lock my doors and I start walking.

As I walk, I wonder which is more likely to happen. Me going into someone's house at 11:30 at night, or me getting a lug wrench from someone. One is asking to come inside someone's domicile as a potential robber, the other is me asking for a blunt instrument to beat them down as a lazy mugger or murderer. I go with the lug wrench because if I decide to keep it, its only theft, as opposed to getting shot for attempting theft. I see houses. I start knocking.

The first house, the second house, and the third there was no response. The fourth house had a window next to the door. And there she was. The lady of the house sitting at the ill-placed computer playing solitaire. Her addiction to playing cards solo was her undoing, because as soon as I knocked, I saw her look dead at me. Oh that's right, I'm huge, black, and at your door, and I KNOW you're here. You can't just shrug it off and hope I leave. We just saw each other, you have to deal with me. She comes to the door as if I were a ravenous wolf, and she was a sheep whose sole protection lay in keeping the door as in between me and her as possible.

"Uh, do you want something?" No, I always walk up to people's doors at eleven at night for no reason. Do I look that dumb? No wait, do you look that dumb? Actually yes. Yes you do.

"I had a bit of car problem, and I'm in need of a lug wrench. Do you have one I can borrow?" Note I said BORROW.

She goes and gets her husband who comes downstairs in his robe. With his hand in his pocket. Oddly enough, he never took his hand out of that pocket. Think he had a gun? I did. That's why I moved as slowly as possible. Sudden movement might have gotten me shot. You'd think that was my only close contact with a gun that night, right?

Wrong. I get back to my car with the loaned lug wrench in hand and start jacking my car up. Do me a favor. Go to your car. Look at your jack. Notice that long screw? Imagine turning that thing till the jack was raised more than three inches of the ground. Now you understand my pain.

My pain didn't last long, since a cop pulled up to serve and protect. At least to protect. And by protect, I mean himself because the first thing he did was pull his gun. Excellent. I'm going to get shot for wielding a dangerous. . .lug wrench. Well, not tonight because I dropped it.

The next bit is pretty self explanatory. This is getting long, so I'll wrap it up. First I had to kneel on the pavement with my hands behind my back. Then I got cuffed. Spent thirty minutes in the back of the cop car. Which by the way, isn't designed to hold someone comfortably. I guess if you're a perp, you should be comfortable, but it'd be nice if I'd not been in a plastic chinese body trap. There was also country music. Thirty minutes of it. My body was in discomfort and my ears were in worse shape. I hate this state.

Turns out I scared somebody, pretty badly. And they called the cops. The rest is pretty much history. I made it home. I got lectured for being irresponsible. I went to bed thinking how much that night would forever be the worse night of my life. Thus far its held its place in my memory as the worse night of my life. I'm sure somewhere there's something out there hoping to dethrone it.