When boredom arises....

Below is an actual letter i wrote to the people @ twitter.com because i'm trying to increase my internet celebrity by garnering self promo-deals with twitter and Chopin Vodka. I just found out about the Twitter Wingman device and thought if muhphuckan Shaq can get one then so can good Ol' kae Williams. So what if i'm not 7'feet tall...i'm me got'dammit.

Dear Folks at Twitter,

I think it would be great if you could assist me/help extend my impending internet celebrity status by allowing me to beta test the Twitter Wingman with the likes of real celebrities such as Shaquille O'neal and others.

I come from an impoverished background and I never received christmas gifts at the orphanage that my alcoholic and angel dust addicted parents dropped me off at in the late 70's. So getting the opportunity to engage in the twitter sensation of beta testing the Wingman would make up for years of not being allowed to play in any reindeer games as a young child.

I just recently came from the doctor and was told that i only have about 40 more years to live....and with such a short life expectancy i think it would be the greatest thing on earth to test out your new device.

What say you? Wouldn't it mean a lot to you and your company to grant the wishes of 33 year old african american man from humble beginnings whose last dying wish is to simply beta test your product? I mean I'm dying anyway, so if by chance the device emmits some sort of radioactive/harmful frequency type toxins wouldn't you want me to be the test subject?
Sincerely,

Kae Williams

untitled (a fool in love)

who does she think she is, captivating all my thoughts like she has?
Not the most beautiful girl in the world...but she's the finest I've ever seen!
She's everything I want...I'm nothing that she even needs.
I call there's no answer..she texts me 30 seconds later sayin' she'll hit me back. I check my phone to see if it's still on. That anticipated call never comes.

I feel played...yet i yearn for even the slightest hint of attention regardless of how negative and self damning it may be to my soul.

who does she think she is, captivating all my thoughts like she has?
How can I be with others and only to imagine that they are her?

How can i convince her that i'm "THE ONE"...when I can't even convince myself.

Who does the think she is, captivating all my thoughts like she has?

I like her smile, i like her warmth...yet she pushes me away.
I pace. Back.Forth.To.And.Fro.
I'd go where she asked. as long as it was her asking.

I want her in my life...but she doesn't need me in hers.
She's social. Just not social enough to be with me.

i yell for her attention. She gives me the cold shoulder.
False promises. False hope.

I talk about her all the time. Yet, she's never met anyone that I know.
Maybe she doesn't exist. Maybe I've be alone too long. My fantasies have marred my reality.
I'd give an hour of time just to be in a minute of hers.
but my desires, along with my hearts' enternal fire are extiguished by her cold demeanor.

My sarcasm does nothing to her strong psyche.
I'm weak in her presence.
My loud voice becomes a whisper. My heart moans loudly, but comes across as a whimper.

Who does she think she is captiviating all my thoughts like she has?
I delete her number from my phone only to look at my bill online in hopes of coming across it again.

I'm a player that can't win. Can't win for losing. But I'm tired of playing. I'm too old for games.
And love is a game that i'll forfeit for the right person...but with her I can't even get on the roster.
She eventually calls me to go out to dinner....even though i just ate, I tag along and order vodka after vodka because i can't muster up the sober courage to tell her how i feel. she disregards my heartfelt emotions as drunken banter and laughs...We giggle in unison...only, I chuckle to mask the pain.

Love is pain. Pain is love. But does it have to hurt so deep? I thought falling in love was supposed to be fun...and even. Why does this feel like a one way street. My heart torn gps is sending me to Heartbreak Hotel and all the rooms are vacant. It's a one sided afair. She's right here and not knowing my heart is over there....


trampled.

hurt.

confused.

abused and feeling used.

i drop her off. i don't even go in....for what, dissappointment?
I hop in the car and every love song that's on makes me hate the ride home.
I shower and then i cower and glance at my phone.
i dial my voice mail to see if it's even on.
no missed calls. no texts. no thank you for the evening's meal...

this can't be life. this so isn't what's right.... this can't be real.

Who does she think she is captiviating all my thoughts like she has?

a few days later I man up. I decide to get myself together and purge her from my life, my thoughts....

4 days without a thought of her... she calls.
I make up an excuse that my phone reset and deleted all my numbers.
i'm not only a fool...i'm foolishly acting dumber.
She wants to go out. Says she hasn't seen me in a while and that she misses me.
the cycle of rejection repeats itself.

Who does she think she is captiviating all my thoughts like she has?

Promises...Promises.

All of my OKP fam knows what this post is about...if i promised you an album...here you go.

Lingy..you wanted Joi ...here yo go Amoeba Cleansing Syndrome

Jimi, here's Total's first joint

Media Noche here's "Ambushed"

About to catch the red eye flight.

She said she wanted to see me and I said I might/

Be there in the morning on the red eye flight/ © kae-z

Okay so I'm not really catching a red eye flight to anywhere on this green earth...I'm sitting here at the doctor's office awaiting my diagnosis of what I already know I have *cue theme music*…………………PINK EYE.

Yes, for the second time in a year, yours truly has become the proud recipient of conjunctivitis aka the inflamed cornea, aka greenish gook and optic toxins aka "oh sh*t muhphucka why's yo eye lid all droopy and your eyes bloodshot-stay-away-from-me". It seems that I only get sick and what not when I'm off of work. How in the livingphuck am I s'pose to enjoy my days off from work when I'm blessed with some unfortunate ailment that always seems to correct itself on the very day that I have to go back to work? (how's that for fate?, I get sick on the weekends and holidays and by some twist of the gravitational pull of the universe I am 100% functional by the next business day.

*Mr. Johnson, I know you're punishing me for something that I've done in my childhood or possibly young adult stage in life. I accept it but do you think we can work on another form of punishment in the future? This is beginning to grow a lil' old and being that you're God and all, I'm sure you have many more creative means of punishing a fine
young specimen of human DNA such as myself...so for the remainder of 2009 lets make that your New Years Resolution towards the way you treat me this year. You God Johnson being of sound body and mind hereby honor the pledge to punish me kae Williams in a more fitting way from here on out*

TWO HOURS LATER FROM THE INITIAL START OF THIS ENTRY (gotta love this EEE PC netbook laptop for its portability if nothing else)

I am now sitting at Jiffy Lube (in all of my pink eye gory and glory).It's obvious that my eyes are the color of Satan's sweat pants because the lil' Indian dude behind the counter is giving me the "side eye" and lookin' at me like I have the plague or the very least like im about to rob the joint of all of it's old magazines, car brake brochures and oil filters. Yeah, muhphucka get a grip… all I want is an oil change……Speaking of which---When did the $19.99 oil change become $40 phuckin' dollars. Gas is down and apparently so should the oil prices be as well. I understand a little inflation due to the economy. I'll pay $26.99 or whatever never but to go from $20 to double that is what I call financial rape. WHAT.KINDA.FUCKERY.IS.THIS? © Amy Winehouse. I should spread my very attractive pink eye to every muhphucka in this place that OKAY'D such a monetary travesty to transpire. Now they saying I need my transmission flushed and filled……sounds like y'all trying to say that you wanna flush out my pockets and fill me with even more costly dick… So this is how it feels to get phucked and not bust a nut. I almost feel bad for all of the times I was with ladies and I rushed to get mine off and didn't worry about them. ( Then again no I don't. I gave y'all the best 4 minutes and 34.5 seconds of my sexual life…I don't know what kinda marathon phuckin' you're used to but that should be well enough time for y'all to cum to a shivering orgasm... and if it isn't then you need to practice on working to completion quicker. HA!)

So here i am out in public with pinkeye, wearing my prescription skrenf Jay-Z psuedo-nerd/Woody Allen type Ray-Bans looking nothing less than someone fit to be quarantined and holed up in some far off island for lepers and legionnaires disease victims. There's a cute girl sitting dead across from me but I dare not say anything to her in my awful state of visual disarray. While it's apparent that I have the potential to be cute, I wouldn't dare mush up on anyone lookin' like I've smoked left over remnants of the crack pipe. This is life and this is the life that my dear savior God Johnson has puppeteered for me to live.

Until next time kids..best wishes and happy phuckin travels. *wipes infected eyes and rubs hands along the inside of your computer screen*

~fin

Happy Belated Balemtymez Day.

*ebonics will likely run rampant in this entry*

Hope this finds you supposed and alleged lovebirds in good health and fine fashion….phuck that no I don't. Bah humbug on some ol' Ebenezer Scrooge type shit. Love is what you make it and fittingly so I'm not making any (love) and therefore this whole valentines day spill just sickens me and throws me further into the downward social spiral that we refer to as "playerdom".

There was once a time in life where I enjoyed spending that one day with someone and making them smile. Then I came to my senses and took control of my finances. (Romance without Finance is a Nuisance © Some old adage often uttered by the women in my family). Yeah, I could easily go out & spend countless dollars on candy, flowers and teddy bears but for what? By the time I do all of that I'm probably tired of the "chase" and if we're not phuckin' by this time, we sure as damn well better be by the close of the evening. (I wish I could say I'm kidding about this but I'm not). Gone are the days where I will spend countless hours, days, and dollars in vaginal pursuits. Is we gone cut or not should be apparent within our first few moments together. You know whether or not you want the pipe and I know whether or not I wanna give it to you. We's adults and should act accordingly. What's with the "CAT-AND-MOUSE-I'M-TRYING-TO-BE-INNOCENT-AND-NOT-GIVE-IN-TO-MY-CARNAL-DESIRES-AND-PHUCK-YOU-IMMEDIATELY-EVEN-THOUGH-MY-PANTYDRAWS-ARE-WET-AND-YOUR-SWEAT-PANTS-ARE-BULGING "game?

Initially I was on track to have a rather outstanding Valentines Day but sadly tension, attitudes, and pent up sexual frustrations from earlier in the week carried over and put a rather horrendous damper on yesterday's events. * i interrupt this entry to go on a total and useless tangent* I will say that even though the adults didn't enjoy the evening…..the kids did. So with that said since it didn't affect my son. I won't even go into further details and say that the day was a total lost. I will say I was disappointed that the tigers at the circus didn't turn on the trainers. The older I get the more morbid my wishful thinking becomes. There's 30,000 kids in attendance (one being my own) and here I am rooting for the phuckin tiger to go all animal kingdom-national geographic-animals-gone-wild(er) just to amuse me. (*checks self into mental clinic for evaluation). *tangent over*

Then it seems that out of the blue that all of the sad and sick single women that I know decided to hit me up on some last minute "what are you doing tonight, Kae" or "Care to see me later". Now where are all these women when I'm sitting at home alone and it's not V-Day? The things people will do in order to say that they did something on "LOVE DAY" never ceases to amaze me but sadly this time instead of me laughing at it, I'm caught off guard because I'm playing an active role in the whole SHITuation. I'm almost thankful that I have my son every Thursday thru Sunday and have a valid reason as to why I couldn't/shouldn't/wouldn't take any of these women up on their offers. ( okay, I am ½ lying. I wouldn't mind the horizontal naked dancing but I'm smart enough to realize that valentine day jump off sex would probably equate to the idea that "we got together" in the minds of many, so I'll refrain from participating in it with people in which I have no genuine interest.)

Well I'm glad that the day of parting pussystricken dudes and their money is behind me. Now we can focus on the bigger question…..Who is you phuckin tonight?

~fin

My Life In Song

There's not a better song than Torrey Carter's "Insanity" to explain what the past few weeks have been for me. I really wish that I could go into detail about everything that's been going on…but I simply do not have the strength, energy or desire to rehash some of the petty arguments and consequential pain. So without further ado I present to you the soundtrack to for my past 30 days.

LISTEN TO *TORREY CARTER's "INSANITY *

~fin

Where the Hoes at? ...

So i'm sitting here trying to embrace my newfound singledom and all i keep meeting is women who are on the downward decline of their looseness. Now it ain't nothing wrong with people become all moralistic and what not...but there is a problem when suddenly it appears that no one is (JUST) phuckin' no more.

Maybe it's just me? *looks in mirror* Nope..that ain't it. I'm still uberly cute and rather sexy if i do sayeth so myself.

How come every woman i've met in the past few weeks suddenly decided that after 4 kids, 3 paychecks and a partridge in a marijuana bush later that they ain't phucking?
Why's every woman now holier than thou and saving themselves for marriage?

You can't even go to a bar now-a-days and expect to have a one night stand...muhphuckas wanna stay the whole damn weekend.

I thought i had me a SideJawnJumpoffReplacement broad who approached me with the whole "phuckbuddy" situation...ffwd two weeks and now she calling me at 7 am on some "I just wanted to call and wish you a good day"...Dammit, we's just phuckin...why's u callin me for any reason other than "Is you coming to blow out my transmission tonight? or is you coming to beat the breaks off of me? We established the confines and definition of our dealings which pretty much is based on " U wanna Cum and I'm gonna come over". Simple as that. But now after said acts, you wanna watch tv and eat some butter cookies. Shawty, you's cute, fine and alladat, but that's not what i'm here for. I'm trying to get into you not *IN* to you. Save all that chit chat for your gay male friends or the negro outside waiting for you to finish gettin' your mall make-over at the MAC counter. I'm a backblowout specialist...that's what'chu hired me for and that's all i'm qualified and willing to do in your life. Don't be callin' askin' do i wanna come over and watch a movie. I don't like Lord Of The Rings. The only movies we should be watchin' should have actors with last names like Pumper, Jackme and shitnot. You know Mood Movies...

if you can't handle the truth and what i'm here for..then bounce. But don't be trying to establish a phuckbuddy thing and then renig(ger) on it. You can't alter me to get me to the altar. You talkin' 'bout "Kae, don't be catchin' no feelings and whatnot and then four days later i'm buttoning my pants and you layin' in the bed all glossy eyed saying "you know you ain't gotta leave".

FOH...

Where they hoes at?...