I want my lemon custard...

So I am leaving one job and headed to another. I start craving a lemon custard ice-cream cup from Marble Slab. I pull into the Marble Slab parking lot and park. I walk inside and to my delight there was two lines open, one of which had only one customer waiting. It was a man and his two daughters (around 6 and 4) and they were placing their order.

I wait.

When the line to my left moved two customers, I decided to see what could be the problem. I started to listen.

“Honey, what do you want?”

The customer, dressed in his suit, was allowing his two daughters in plaid school girl uniforms to decide what they wanted to order. It’s great when kids can make choices, but this ten-minute decision process was getting ridiculous.

At six, my mother would ask me what I wanted and she would place the order for me. If I did not know, I had better decide quick and in a hurry or I would not receive an ice-cream.

“Does the ice-cream cake has cake in it, cause I don’t like cake in it…”
“Well, it does have cake because it is pre-made…”

What? The manager was talking to the little girl as though she was an adult.

SHE IS SIX YEARS OLD!

It is great that she is being taught to make decisions, but the line at Marble Slab is not the place for her life long lessons in fiscal or physical responsibility.

Give these girls a vanilla cone and keep it moving…

In frustration, I left, with out my lemon custard. I guess come ice-creams are simply not meant to be.

Happy Anniversary, My Queens...

"Everybody line up
The show is about to start
Places, the show is about to start
You have to show a look, have a look, or give a look
Faces, beautiful
No one ugly allowed..."

Monday nights in Atlanta belong to the small but tight knit group of drag performers known as “The Stars of the Century.” For ten years, these performers, who once included Miss Sophia, have presented a drag review that may be the best in black gay America.

What makes them “stars” are the numerous titles each cast member has assembled throughout his/her career in entertainment. Last night the Monday night show celebrated it's tenth year and I was in the house.

The creator and artistic director of the show is Mississippi native and drag icon, Niesha Dupree. Miss Niesha really is the drag empress of Atlanta and she is to be commended on making and maintaining what has become a mainstay in the black gay community.

I never thought I would enjoy drag shows but the performers with the stars of the century give one hell of a show. Those ole girls turned it last night.

Congratulations ladies…

Spring in the ATL...

New Yorkers love New York in a way that is unmatched by any other city. I feel that kind of love for Atlanta even if I have not been expressing it lately. Atlanta is a great spring city.

With the recession in full bloom (not to mention the pollen), I have been really down on this city I love. This weekend, I had the chance to reconnect. The First Family went to The Dogwood Festival and we had a time. Turkey legs, corndogs, and art that was as high as giraffe’s pussy (not to mention more pollen than I could stand) are all signs that spring is in full spring in the ATL.

If you missed The Dogwood Festival, this weekend the Inman Park Festival occurs. I will be there with Parker, Dees, and a corn dog.

I love YB and DL and Que (equally of course...)

“A year has come and gone so fast, I think I might be dreaming…”

Happy Anniversary, YB and DL!
For the past year, this blog has continuously provided entertaining and enriching stories of one young man’s hot, torrid, and enlightening affairs. The honesty is unbridled and the growing pains can sometimes be all too real. Always a great read, YB and DL does not hold back and is never short with words.

From hot road trips and baby mama drama to tawdry hook ups with sexy older dudes, YB and DL keeps it real. He’s on a journey and he’s taking us with him, each step of the way.

A quote:
“Here's the deal, I have gotten with...well my share of dudes, but I wouldn't consider, not the first one of them a friend, or someone I can talk to about my love life or sex life. I guess perhaps, that might be on me, but the truth is I really don't see any of them as friend types or potential friends.”

Well, YB, we are your friends. We, your readers, love you and accept you for who you are and are thankful that you are allowing us on your journey as you grow into the man you are meant to be.

I cannot wait to see what the next year holds for you and Von and all the men and women we have not met yet.
Get down low at http://youngblackanddownlow.blogspot.com/

Happy Anniversary Que!
Not only do I laugh at loud every time I read the Purveyor of All Things Appropriately Inappropriate, I can’t stop laughing throughout the day.

Caption for a random chick on a bus…
“The only reason I'm putting this cunt on blast is because she walked pass me and hit me with that tired ass vinyl bag of hers. She looked at me, and realized that she knocked the shit out of my head, and didn't say excuse me. Begin Read: Her fake ass Dawn from Danity Kane ass had on the cheapest pumps I've seen since Wild Pair closed. “

Caption for recent episode Making the Band…
I know you guys watched 'Making The Band' last night. I just don't get it. What the hell is wrong with Ms. Q? She has been throwing temper tantrums, snapping her fingers, ringing her neck around like a hula hoop, and rolling her eyes like dice. What a fucking queen! I'm so sick of her and her cunty ways.
It's okay Q, the GLBT community will accept you with open arms. Just stop picking fights with the trade and running into corners. Last night he even had the nerve to tell Brian to "suck his dick". Brian couldn't see licking that queen's man clit. What a BITCH!!!!

Que consistently tell the girls to live and baby I do… I live for this blog and if you get into, honey, you will too.
Read Que at http://quincyjones66.blogspot.com/

Great Sex (Inspired by Ryan Lee)

In many ways, great sex can be likened to a great journey. Imagine the wise and mature Odysseus sailing the Aegean Sea, in search of his beloved Ithaca and his beloved Penelope. Imagine brave and young Inman battling his way across the civil-war torn south to his beloved North Carolinian plantation and his beloved Ada. Now, imagine Odysseus fucking Inman and you will have an idea of what constitutes great sex.

Great sex is a place we all seek. At some point in our lives, we finally arrive at the desired destination of great sex and for I arrived at the ripe age of twenty-five. It was then that I had the best sex of my life.

I met Johnny online. Yes, like many, I too searched the net for love and suffered loss. Johnny was a nineteen year old college student at a local all male college. He was shorter, (5'8), compact (a full six-pack complete with a 31 waist), and dreaded (not my first preference, but hey, they worked on him.)

When I met him, he gave me nothing but attitude. He constantly ran his mouth, flapped his jaws, and complained. I laughed at him and shrugged it off because I had no intentions of doing anything more than beating his back up.

And boy did I ever beat it up.

The first time we fucked, it was good, but not great. It was by no means the best sex. But I realized even then that the potential was there. Johnny was a well-endowed auditory bottom. He crooned and moaned and begged while fucking and I loved every single sound. When he called me "daddy," I melted. When he begged me to fuck him harder, I tried to knock his back out. And the harder I hit, the more he wanted.

The second time we fucked, he asked me to slap him in the mouth.
The third time we fucked, he asked me to pull his hair.
The fourth time we fucked, he asked me to hit him harder.

I slapped him playfully, but it was not what he wanted. He asked to be hit and that is exactly what he wanted. Again, I slapped him harder, this time with more force, but he wanted more. I punched him softly, yet he wanted more. I punched his back, his stomach, his thighs, his ass, and still, he wanted more.

This brutal fucking continued for several sessions. He would scream and cry and beg for me to pulverize not only his ass but his body as well. And yes, I loved every minute of it. I would cum loudly, giving into the bestial and guttural sex. It was the after-minutes that I did not love.

I felt horrible about the things I was doing to this "kid." He routinely begged to be demeaned and hurt and I fed into his need for debasement. Worse than that, I was enjoying his debasement. When I confronted Johnny with my concerns, he laughed, told me to get a condom, and then asked me to fuck him inversely (um, not sure if this is the right word, but it consisted of him on bottom, me on top, my head at his feet, and his feet at my head). He wailed in intense pain, and came all over my sheets like never before.

Johnny and I stopped messing around after a month. I met him towards the end of a semester and he ended up flunking out of college. We instant-message each other infrequently on yahoo every now and then. He once asked to move in with me so he could make his way back to Atlanta, but I told him that would be a horrible idea.

The best sex of my life took me to a place I had never been and would never like to return.

Inspired by Ryan Lee...

David Magazine editor, Ryan Lee, wrote a great article in this week’s issue. The article was so good that it inspired me to write an honest sexual exploration about a great sexual experience pre-Parker.

http://davidatlanta.com/2009/4-8/city/city/2608.cfm

Read this piece and check me out tomorrow.

P.S. Crazy Diamond- Saw you in Wal-Mart on Saturday, headed over to speak, and “swoosh, you was gone…”

Customer Service with a Smile?

I have become addicted to Checker’s hot dogs. I know, I know… don’t judge me.

So I go to the drive-thru and order three hotdogs (they are just 99cents). I am greeted by a rude, ghetto worker.

Checkers Worker: Yeah.
Corey Keith: Excuse me.
Checkers Worker: Yeah, can I take yo order.
Corey Keith: Three hot dogs, please.
Checkers: Three chili dogs?
Corey Keith: Three hot dogs.
Checkers Worker: Huh? Nobody orders hot dogs. $3.21. Drive around.

And I drive around and wait ten minutes while the car in front of me gets three bags of food. When I finally get to the window, I am greeted by weave all over the place and two gold teeth blinging hard.

Corey Keith: How much is it?
Checkers Worker: Huh?
Corey Keith: How much is the order?

Checkers Worker: I told you 3.21.
I hand it over and take the bag.

Corey Keith: Excuse me. Can I have some ketchup?
Checkers Worker: We ain’t got no ketchup.

How can a fast food restaurant not have ketchup? I am almost sure there was ketchup in the back but she did not want to get it.

Why? Why can I not get decent customer service in my neighborhood? I know, I know… don’t tell me… some one already said it in response to my Shirley Franklin post.

Win, lose, or draw...

Sometimes, life can be quite a gamble. This weekend, that was definitely true. Early Saturday morning Parker and I were awakened by someone banging on our window. It was Thirsty. He wanted to go to the Casino in North Carolina. With no plans other than cleaning on the agenda we figured why not... what did we have to lose? As it turned out, quite a bit.

The casino was a mess. The place reaked of smoke and foulness. Coming from Mississippi, Casinos are nothing new for me. I am used to all you can drink, all you can eat, and slots that hit frequently. The casino in Cherokee was dry… no alcohol PERIOD. The food was a reheated mess and we did not hit. Not Parker, not Thirsty, and not me. Within two hours I lost 120. Parker lost 40 and Thirsty lost 240.

I should have listened to my first instinct. I did not want to go in the first place. I should have stayed at home and mopped.

For Thirsty, this was his fourth jaunt to Miss Harrahs. She's a horrible ole girl and we should have avoided her the way I avoid Virginia.

Shiny, Happy People...

In our world, we value positivist. We appreciate positive comments, a positive outlook, and an overall positive approach to life. Rarely do we want to hear negative comments or negative feedback, regardless of how constructive they may be.

Tonight I spoke with my cousin Monty and he told me he was moving to D.C. I gave him my opinion of the move and he got really pissed.

I think D.C. is a great city… if you have money.

Monty accused me of being negative… all the time.

I thought about what he said and took his words to heart. I don’t think I am negative. I view myself as a realist. I see things as they are and if someone asks my opinion, I tell them how I feel. However, I can see how someone can see me as negative.

I am analytical and strategic. I look for problems and I look for solutions.

A co-worker told me a couple of weeks ago that she was complaining to much about our boss and that she had decided to read book entitled A Complaint Free World. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but now I realize the value of complaints. Without complainers we would not be as aware of problems. Without problems we would not find solutions and without solutions our world would never get better.