Big Yellow Forehead (continued)

What's in a name?

The series continues...

Back in the Day...

I used to get teased quite a bit about the size of my forehead. Some of my classmates in middle school would tell me that I had a "Tyra Banks Forehead" (or fivehead, as they sometimes said). I could not tolerate Tyra Banks back in the 90s. I mean, I think she's God-awful now, but I really despised her back in the day. It was probably the result of being told that I had a massive cranium, just like her, the fact that she couldn't act her way out of a paper bag, and the horrible hair weaves she would wear (I still maintain my theory that her forehead is so ginormous because of all the weaves she's worn over the years), all wrapped up into one.

When you have a larger-than-life forehead, people always want to touch it --- at least they do that to me (is that standard? must look into this...). It's like they think that it will give them some sort of magical powers, or that they can make a wish off of your forehead, or SOMETHING. The whole thing was always bizarre to me.

You see, big foreheads run in my family. I never realized that I had a big forehead until I got teased at school. It's just like how little kids don't know anything about race until you tell them about it. I didn't know my forehead wasn't perceived as normal because nobody had ever drawn attention to it.

Needless to say, the mean kids at my middle school really let me have it, and informed me that my forehead was gargantuan on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes, they didn't even call me my full name. They just called me "Forehead." How endearing.... (enter sarcastic smiley here)...

On the outside, I appeared to be a major wimp. I had this squeaky voice, I was all scrawny, and as I explained in the last post on this topic, I had no fashion sense whatsoever --- something crucial to the middle school existence. But don't get it twisted. (And also don't ask why I keep using slang today.) My dad and brother taught me how to fight like a boy. Someone should have told Jason Brown* that when were on the bus that one day in 7th grade...

Anyone who ever rode the bus as a middle schooler knows the horrors of the afternoon bus ride. Ridiculous things happen when you put a bunch of rowdy pubescent tweens on a bus together for 15 minutes. Kids expose themselves, pick fights, moon passerby, and throw miscellaneous objects.

One day, Jason Brown decided that it was time to pick on me to show off to all of his friends his joning skills. This was not uncommon in my suburban Maryland community. Unfortunately, I was the subject of this joning exercise, and the audience was a cruel one.

Jason was seated in front of me. He turned around, kneeling on his seat, facing me, and began to crack jokes about the size of my forehead. Thanks to instigation from the peanut gallery, the harassment worsened. He began calling me "Forehead" and proceeded to smack me in the forehead. How rude!

"You'd better stop it!" I yelled at him. Of course this caused him to burst out in laughter.

"Or what?"Jason asked sardonically.

"Or else," I responded. (I don't even think that I was convinced this was a viable threat.)

Jason continued smacking me on the forehead and mocking me until we reached my bus stop. I remember feeling extremely angered -- a feeling that is rare to me even today (unless I'm watching a State of the Union Address by Dubya or listening to HRC "misremember" things). I knew that something was going to have to be done to Jason the next time he made fun of me in front of all of the kids I grew up with -- I just didn't know what I was going to do...

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The next day, on the way home, Jason and the instigators started on me again.

"Forehead! Forehead!" chuckled Jason as he repeatedly smacked me in the forehead.

"Stop it!" I yelled angrily, but he kept on. All of a sudden, I had an outer-body experience. I stood up, felt overcome with rage, looked at him, knew his mouth was moving, but heard nothing. I cocked my arm back, and socked him right in the lip. Somehow, I knew that my stop was approaching, so I grabbed my things, walked to the front of the bus, the doors opened, and I got out right at my stop. Needless to say, Jason Brown never teased me again. That day, everyone laughed at him for getting beaten up by a girl. Apparently, with that one forceful blow, I was able to maim him. I busted his lip, as well as his dignity.

***I don't want anyone to think that I'm condoning violence. But while I'm not condoning violence, I'm also not condoning the silent treatment or "pretend they're not there" BS either. Sometimes you gotta put your foot down and take names...***

Now I embrace my forehead. My big, beautiful, yellow forehead is just a small part of who I am. And that is precisely why I named my blog "Big Yellow Forehead."

If your eyes are the windows to your soul, then my forehead must be the garage.

*fictional name used to spare the dignity of this man

The Ominous Character That is Hillary Rodham Clinton

Before reading this blog entry, I suggest reading this article by Eugene Robinson of the WAPO...

This was my original reaction to the article:

"Hillary Clinton might be a flying purple people eater, but she's no idiot. She knew exactly what she said and why she said it. As someone else noted, she's just mad that she got caught and that people aren't as dumb as she thinks. I'm so tired of hearing these whining, moaning, HRC supporters crying sexism. Hillary says something stupid, rational-thinking people don't fall for it, and all of a sudden the media is sexist. Give me a break! How about the racism that the HRC campaign has perpetuated since Day 1? Let's talk about that. Bringing up RFK's assassination was calculated. She meant exactly what you think she meant. What a heinous villain."

I knew that Hillary was a low-stooper, player hater, and a habitual line-stepper, but golly... The RFK assassination? Are you really waiting for an assassination to happen before you drop out of the race, Hillary?

I know that Hillary has no problem assisting the shit in hitting the fan, but come on. Have some pride, woman! Why would you even say something so horrible? I don't believe for one second that she didn't mean to allude to some sort of assassination during this presidential campaign season. It's horrible! That's all that I can say. Stop smoking that wacky tobacky, Hilary. Stop.

Hmmm... Is He Old, Or Old As Hell?

John McCain. The man of many years. Many, many, MANY years...

Okay, so they released McCain's medical records, and I ask this: Who gives two shits? I know I don't.

The man is old as hell. Come on. "Healthy" for a 71-year old man is not the same as healthy for a 21-year old, is it? I have met plenty of 71-year olds, and read plenty of magazine articles about 80-year old marathon runners, but let's get real --this man is not one of them.

I'm not completely sold on the fact that McCain does NOT stuff his suit jackets. While watching SNL last weekend, it seemed fairly obvious to me that Old Man River had a stuffed suit jacket! Anybody want to go head-to-head with me on this one and try to argue otherwise?

You will lose! :-P

Big Yellow Forehead

What's in a name?

I've just realized that I never explained the name of this blog! Below is the beginning of a series of blogs to follow explaining the name of my blog...

Back in the Day...

When I was in elementary school, I was this sweet little thing (though mean sometimes, as all kids are). I had excellent grades, parents who were involved in everything from school to athletics to Girl Scouts. They knew my friends' parents, and got along quite well with them. My mom and dad were still married until late in my 3rd grade school year, so I always had cute little pigtails and coordinating barrettes.

Once my parents divorced, I turned into a real ragamuffin. I lived with my father, whom I love dearly, but who doesn't know very much about the hygiene of little girls. He didn't know how to do my hair correctly, so I was often left to my own devices, looking like a girl who lived with just her father and little brother (think 1990s LL Cool J commercial with his daughter). "My fingers are too big to braid your hair," my dad would say.

I had this wild hair. It was really thick, and incredibly wavy, but manageable under the right conditions. For some reason, only my mother was able to find these conditions. My father's girlfriends had no clue how to manage this wild hair. They put gel on it, the wrong barrettes in it, and called it a day. I knew that it was all wrong, but I didn't know how to fix it... but I still tried.

By middle school, I was not so sweet. I don't know too many middle schoolers who are! My grades started to slip from the straight A's of elementary school, I was lazy, and I was too wrapped up in pop culture. I was definitely boy crazy back then, and tried my darnedest to have them Alexis crazy. Unfortunately, this ploy failed on numerous occasions.

I was a big dork.

I should have been sentenced for life by the fashion police. I only got new shoes every two years, and the shoes I owned I wore EVERYWHERE. I had this pair of Adidas with the silver stripes and NO ankle support whatsoever for two years. Those were my favorite. They came with a matching key chain.

My father did not allow me to wear certain things to school. I was allowed to wear jeans (not the tight Parasuco's that were popular during that time), sneakers, and either a t-shirt or a sweatshirt/running jacket. Nothing more. Nothing less. God forbid I look like a 12-year old girl.Despite the fact that we were an athletic household, I was not allowed to wear any athletic clothes. This rule was enacted when I wore a club volleyball jersey and warm-up suit to school one day. Never again.

I recalled this story while I was working at Ann Taylor last weekend:

My grandfather bought me two sweat suits for Christmas one year. One was highlighter yellow, and the other was bright blue. They didn't have hoods. That would have been too much. I HATED hoods as a child (they're a staple of my "Day Off" wardrobe, the evolution of my "First Class of the Day After Volleyball Practice" wardrobe.

I also had this pair of Reebok Princesses (these and the Classics were the hottest shoes of 1997). My mom bought them for me for like $19.99, and I was so excited. I was going to wear these shoes into the ground, like the many pairs of shoes before them. I just knew I was so cool.

Anyway, shortly after receiving these sweat suits, I wore them to school, to show off my coordination. Matching bright yellow sweatpants and sweatshirt, I headed to school that morning, oblivious to the fashion sin I was committing. Fortunately, my lack of fashion sense was soon observed by my classmates.

This one really fat, gay, speech impeded kid jumped on the opportunity to make fun of me. "Look at you. You're bright yellow! Your skin, and your clothes!" He then proceeded to sing "Mr. Sun" (though it sounded like "Mith-ter Thun"), invoking laughter from all of my classmates. Talk about a hit to your ego! I was absolutely humiliated. He was 100% correct. I was so light-skinned during that time of the year that I looked jaundiced (as the doctors thought I was at birth--- true story). The sweat suit gave a true yellow effect, blinding the innocent passerby. Now, I don't get embarrassed very easily, but I'll tell you that I most definitely was on this occasion. Here I thought I looked so cute in an outfit that my grandfather bought for me, while my classmates thought that I looked like a royal, bright yellow anus.

The irony of it all. Me remembering my lack of fashion sense in the 90s while standing in Ann Taylor, advising people on what to wear to keep up with the times while wearing classic styles.

Help! Movies!

Okay, so, if you haven't figured it out already, I'm a big dork...

I have a friend coming to the states in just a couple of months, and I'm trying to put together some movies to watch. He's got some that I haven't seen or heard of before, and I was hoping the same for myself. Unfortunately, I'm finding this not to be the case. Any suggestions? I prefer political or controversial movies.

See, he's studying in London, but he's French, and seems to believe that when it's done in French, it's better. This is even his argument for television show theme songs. For example, Chip and Dale: Rescue Rangers. Do you know what the French call it? Tic et Tac: Ranger du Risque. It's horrible. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song is the worst in French. I almost cried.

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Since I'm on a topic I don't generally discuss on this blog (old-fashioned entertainment), have you all heard of the show "The Electric Company?"



They're trying to bring it back. And yes, that is Morgan Freeman.

Oh Hell Yes!

With all of the frustration I endured yesterday, I decided to be optimistic today, calling today's blog "Oh Hell Yes", as opposed to "Oh Hell No"...

As I'm sure you all have heard, Edwards FINALLY endorsed Obama. Of course, this would have been better if he had done so just before the PA primary, but, heck, this is still pretty flipping sweet.

I think that it would not be too much to imagine Edwards as Obama's running mate. Edwards speaks to the common man, and more importantly, the common WHITE man. We have to be realistic here and admit that there is still quite a bit of racism in this glorious country. Those hillbillies in West VA and elsewhere are much more likely to vote for Obama with Edwards as his running mate because he allays some of their fears. In the Ideal America, I would have loved to have seen a blind Native American running with a deaf albino, but we have to get real -- that ain't happening in MY lifetime.

I never really disliked Edwards. Did I think he was bland? Yes. How could I not? Do I think he's more interesting than Billary? Perhaps. But I can sit here today and admit that I like him more than her. Heck, I am inclined to like McCain sometimes more than her. Especially after his trip to The Daily Show.

We'll see what effect this has on the weeks to follow, but I predict Hillary trying to duck out and save face. Seems like she's already got those wheels in motion.

Obama Heavily Favored by Left-Handers, Lactose Intolerant

The results are finally in: Barack Obama fares well in the lactose intolerant demographic.

CNN, FOX News, and Lifetime all reported this ever-important information in the wee hours this morning between episodes of Anderson Cooper: Afterhours, The O'Reilly Factor, and the shocking conclusion to "Woman Gets Hit By Space Trash and Seeks Revenge."

A sleepy Senator Obama responded to this startling information in a 3 a.m. phone call Wolf Blitzer by stating, "I think it's clear that the American people are tired of cheese."

Senator Obama won the lactose intolerant vote by a landslide in Indiana and North Carolina, defeating Hillary by a whopping 95%.

Other demographics in which Senator Obama is heavily favored include red-headed stepchildren, the quadriplegic, FONZ members, and ventriloquists. Pollsters and pundits are also predicting that Senator Obama will beat Senator Clinton among south paw voters in West Virginia.

While Obama is expected to fare well among the aforementioned groups, Clinton is expected to do well among two demographics in particular: bitter, old spinsters, and bra-burners.

Getting in on the voter demographic breakdown, Senator McCain was found to be successful in the deceased population. Self-appointed representative of the deceased Dick Clark stated that only Senator McCain understands the trials and tribulations of the deceased. Mortician James Van Dingle says that a lot of the survivors at Charleston's Toe Tags Unlimited claim that their loved ones professed their love for McCain before their passing. One such survivor recalls a conversation with his 107-year old great-grandmother Edna just before her passing.

"Granny E told me that she loved John McCain because she remembered her older sister dating him in college, and he seemed like such a gentleman," said Johnny Law. "Then, she blew her nose with her nightgown and declared herself the Queen of Scots." Law began to cry, explaining that this was the last conversation he had with his great-grandmother.

Finally!

Finally, finally, FINALLY I feel as though I'm recovering!

After a disruption in my lymphatic system, and an allergy attack to the antibiotics, I am finally feeling better. I'm sure that Barack practically clenching the Democratic nomination contributed to such good feelings! I'm so swamped at work, but I do promise a riveting story on voter tendencies very shortly!

Another Reason Not to Vote For Hillarytard

Ugh. I almost thought, for a split second, that it was impossible for that snake to stoop any lower. Now I see that the changeling has turned herself into a groundhog, as she continues to burrow herself underground, looking for the most underhanded way to undermine the Obama Campaign...

Hillary Clinton is a weasel. Here I thought I was having an allergic reaction to the antibiotics I'm taking, when all along I've been having Hillary Hives! I guess she's more like a flesh-eating bacteria, because she just doesn't quit!

She reminds me of The Grinch, and she'd better not turn into The Grinch Who Stole the Democratic Nomination!!! You know that one scene in the original movie version of The Grinch, where he slithers around on the floor in one Who's house, stealing their Christmas presents? That reminds me of Hillary. She's so slimy, and her heart is three sizes too small! I don't believe any of the crap she says. I heard an interesting story about her on the radio a few mornings ago -- you know, how far she's come and all that. It's amazing to compare the kinds of work she used to do as a student with what she does now. I think people with no backbone (like a slimy little eel) bend in whichever direction their peers decide would be the best position.

She's still a player hater.

Okay, I Knew Nigerians were doing this, but Now the Chinese?

This is an email that came into my inbox at 2 this morning from "Mr. Ming Yang":

Good Day,

I sincerely hope that this letter will not come to you as a surprise or an embarrassment since we neither knew each other before nor had any neither previous correspondence nor contact. Let me start by introducing myself. I am Mr. Ming Yang, Director of Operations of the Hang Seng Bank Ltd, Sai Wan Ho Branch, Hong Kong . I have an obscured business suggestion for you.
I am here-by seeking your service in giving a clear research and feasibility studies on areas I could invest on. Your services will be paid for, and you will be a partner, if your recommendation is accepted.

As a bank employee, I cannot operate any personal investment till I am retired and with the Anti-corruption Bill passed in Hong Kong; it is risky for a fixed income earner to own any huge amount of money in Hong Kong or any foreign country. It is then advisable to invest in any foreign land secretly and patiently waits for retirement.

For security purpose, I shall not accept or acknowledge any emails in relation to this without this code; [CODE NO: AM-002]. Should you be further interested, I would prefer you to reach me on this email address: (ming_yang11@strompost.com) and finally after that I shall provide you with more details of this operation.

Kind Regards
Mr. Ming Yang
Private Email: ming_yang11@strompost.com


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Operation?