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Roots

Okay, I think my mom might be Pam Grier. I’m at least part afro-american with emphasis on afro. This humidity has me sportin’ curly hairs all over da place. What the hell?!?! I’m gonna have to find me a pimp daddy and some jerry curl to tame this foxxy ass! That’s what I’m talkin’ bout, yo! Nubian World here I come!

This was just a crappy day. No, I didn’t get splashed by a puddle, I did have an adequate umbrella, my work was productive and manageable, but something is amiss. I tripped on my own pant cuff going up a flight of stairs, but I caught myself. There was no line at Subway, but I got someone else’s sandwich. I’m sporting what seems to be a perm a la Barbara Streisand in A Star is Born, yet I used my straightening iron. Nothing major–just a tad bit off kilter. Enough to throw my hands up and say, “I’m going home!” So, I did. I watched *zero* television, savored an apple martini and completey revamped my website. Whatcha think?

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