DH is really nice-looking, and he looks better bald (he was in Major League as Pedro Cerrano, doing an Afro-Latino accent).
:cool:

The brightest future will always be based on a forgotten past; you can't go forward in life until you let go of your past failures and heartaches. - CT4

Sooooooo true!

I absolutely loooooove him when he's all thugged out (Heat, Random Hearts, How to Make the Crulest Month, etc.) he looks soooo sexy then!!!! However he is downright ugly in Love and Basketball, Waiting to Exhale, and Love Field.

FYI: If you remember in Major League, there is a scene where he's just in some skimpy underwear and he's lifiting weights!!!!!! How delicious!!! :D

ROFLMAO @ Soror MeezDiscreet's Signature:


ME to Student: You need to do your vocabulary

Students: I am.

Me: Then what does "approbation" mean?

Student: Umm... to approve a bation

Me: Never say that again in your whole life

:D

Basically what it says. :)

Soror MeezDiscreet
 

That isht is hilarious. I hope this is a recent change because I still remember your mack daddy signature.

Re: Soror MeezDiscreet
 

Ditto! I think I commented on your siggy in another thread. But this had me rolllling!!:D

MeezDiscreet, I am CTHU @ your new siggy. Your students are off da chain!!!

this just happened yesterday! i was like "are you SERIOUS?"

^^^Your sig is TOO funny!!!:D

Nupe 4 Life siggy had me rolling!

Soulful Remix
 

Did you write this yourself? Very profound.:)

i might be extremely late but i read your siggy and it had me rolling!!

You need to start some type of column about your teaching experiences. They are hilarious!!

Re: Soulful Remix
 

Dang, CT4... Im just seeing this. :o

Nope, I didn't write that. It comes from writing by Aulelei Love. Here is the piece in its entirety.

Be Good to your Daughters

oh, see that skin?
its the same she's been standing in
since the day she saw you walking away
now she's left cleaning up the mess you made.."
- john mayer

yesterday, i saw a girl, maybe twelve or thirteen, walking several paces behind her father (i think..it was some sort of male presence). we were all headed in the same direction, toward our cars (mine parked a few cars down from theirs), so i witnessed the entire journey from store front to car handle..& the loud silence of their footsteps. the poet in me saw the frown of her shoulders. the angst in his stride. the way he held his keys as if they were freedom. & i saw the heaviness of her legs. how her flip flops did not make that gum popping noise. she walked with aged disappointment. thirteen year olds should glide on air. they should hop. pirouette to the teeny bopper songs in their heads. they should travel on giggles. they should hummingbird fly haphazardly with invincibility. she did not. she, lowered head, small steps, lazy arms, empty hands, just followed closely behind his shadow.

& i wondered if they sat in silence the whole way home.

& if prior to me seeing them exit glass doors, if she had smiled & glided & hop scotched her ways across his patience. maybe she wanted too short of a skirt. maybe she couldn't find anything in the department store & this was the 4th one in a row. maybe she muttered "i hate you" under cherry flavored breath. & maybe he was just a stand-in dad.

& i wondered if when both sets of heavy feet cross the threshold of "home" who would the mother kiss first? would she mend the day with a cheesecake & joke? would she take sides? or would she run off & vacation too long in a hot shower?

& i wondered if the girl would slip into her room comfortably. escaped into a journal or telephone conversation or mtv, wishing to be too grown or too gone or too much of both.
if the father would sink into the couch with regret. if he would recall when her little legs would dangle from around his neck at the county fair, or the sweetness of "da da" being squealed directly into his ear.

& i wonder about the moment when everything changed.

& i wondered if she would always consider walking with his shadow her place. & if she would love in silence. or hate in silence. or live in silence. i wondered if she would swallow her sentences whole in fear of being left behind. or maybe she'd one day wake up screaming at life. bicker at clocks. bitch at sunsets for casting shadows at all. i wondered about what type of woman she'd become. what type of lover would she be? what type of mother she'd birth.

broken girls become broken women become mothers become broken mirrors become warriors become broken poems become broken backs. the only thing intact is the cycle.

be good to your daughters.

© Aulelei Love, read more of her work at http://www.sheflypaper.com