120 Hours

I haven’t blogged in 3 months. I hadn’t been in the mood to write and I felt like I haven’t had anything funny to write about. The recent tragedy in Louisiana with the flooding put things into perspective for me. I have a homeboy who was affected by this and when I checked on him he said he just needed a pick me up. And I know a blog post isn’t much of anything but hopefully I can give him and anyone else who needs it a good laugh or 2 and bring their spirits up. That’s why I write. So here we go, hope you laugh.
Twas the first semester of my senior year of college. I had a good relationship with my professors in my major courses as did most of my fellow students but this particular semester they decided to just throw the biggest monkey wrench they could find and toss that shit into the plans of me graduating on time.

They hired this new professor, he was from the Bahamas and got his PhD from Cornell or one of those bougie ass schools. The man wanted a paper and presentation about every damn thing we talked about and at the time I just wasn’t mentally prepared to be the student he wanted me to be in order to get a BET original movie made about his story starring Clinton Powell and Keith David. (names don’t ring a bell? Google em, you’ve seen em)

So this new professor came on campus with a syllabus and lesson plan written with Joe Jackson vibes. Nothing was gonna be good enough for this guy. Let’s call him Ho Clark. Sorry I can’t be more creative at the time.

So I struggle through the whole semester. Towards the end, I took it upon myself to give me a day off from his class. And I also took it upon myself to put my foot in my own ass cause the day I missed was the same day this man decided to have everyone pick their groups for the final projects and whoever was not in class that day, or did not get chose was in a group.

So it was me, the 6th year senior, the dude who always came to class with a red eyed hangover, and the guy who was a lil slower than everyone else but always received a pat on the back for his efforts.

And to add insult to injury, when I came to class the next day, he’s reading off the list of groups and I was hoping that the guy who I thought was my homie, Durty Vert from my previous blogs, would’ve looked out for me and add me to his group but he played me. So he reads off all the groups and then says “and the last group, that I put,together due to absences arrrrreeee”

*a collection of shit eating grins immediately turn my way*

I sit there and look at the ceiling, ready to accept my fate. I’m in the group with(in order of their descriptions above)  Boris Hellnoe, Taye Niggs, and Aubrey FLAKE Graham (boy had immaculate dandruff).

The first part of the project was to open a restaurant in the next town, research the target market, wants, needs. And some other BS. 

The name of the town is Colonial Heights. We interviewed the manager of the local McDonald’s who was not ashamed to be black and let us know “I’m the manager of a MacDonalds in the whitest damn town around, why the hell you think they call it Colonial Whites?”

That’s real.. I appreciate it.
So me and Taye were in the library putting together a presentation about this struggleraunt we finna open. Boris and Flake are off.. Being off. 

We’re brainstorming on the project, bouncing ideas, he’s a pro at photo editing so he was gonna make the logo and such. I was writing everything out. His phone goes off.

Taye: *looks at phone* Uh oh, cheeeba cheeebaa!

Me: you tryna smoke now? Ween finish nothing!

Taye: look bruh, just write the intro, I’ll take care of everything else, I gotta go.
And like a sucka… I believed him.

So we’re in class… I’m ready for him to tell me he had nothing and we gotta wing it. But he had it! So we go up there ready to present. 

I introduce myself to the class, he uploads the power point, my back is facing the screen. 

Me: My name is Mr. Belafonte these are,my team mates. We were given the task of opening a restaurant in Colonial Heights, we had to research the population and target market and we found that locally, people refer to it as Colonial Whites because of population. *looks at the screen*

This man has an american flag, and the background of fuckin trailer parks and pickup trucks as the logo and the words on the backdrop say “Colonial Whites, we’ll get ya right!”
Me: and this…. Nigga… Named the restaurant Colonial Whites and he will now take over while I go cry about something other than this L I’m taking.

I’m not 100% sure about how the whole presentation went because once I saw the professors face frown up the sight of the logo I closed my eyes and kept singing “Rain on me” by Ashanti as I go down with this ship. I do remember him going over the menu and I heard “we have corn dogs cause white people love corn dogs”. 


When I open my eyes this Nigga had the nerve to say “Any questions or comments?”
The way Dr. Clark repeatedly called us ignorant I just felt like I was standing in front, blindfolded, whole classroom got guns.
So Professor Clark gives us the 2nd part of our project that’s like 800% of our final grade. We had to pick a state, pick a hotel to for accommodations for all the needs of sports fans… I think.. I still don’t know. I remember we chose Texas for whatever reason. 

I stayed up all night writing a rough draft of everything I think this man needs just to see if I’m on the right track. I put my heart into this draft. I made a whole pot of coffee, put it on ice, chugged it, booboo’d my life away and went to class. I showed it to him. 

Dr: No no no, Mr. Belafonte this is all wrong, you need to figure out your market, interests, average age, likes dislikes, wants, state birds, fruit, drop out rate, and Bun B’s social security number.

Me: Do I really need a degree?
So I go to the rest of my classes, meet with the group tell them everything he wanted and assigned topics. 
48 Hours. No sleep.

I go back home to rewrite it on top of everything else I have to do for school. Make another pot of coffee, chug it, booboo my life away, go to my 8am Bio class. I walk in at 8:10 And all the desks are spread out.. Why are they spread out? Cause this is the final exam. And the only thing I know is Bun B’s social security number, and the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell. 

I’m pretty sure ima let Dr. Clark down so I can’t bomb 2 classes so lemme sit in the back pull my phone out and see if Google can gimme a B.

So while I’m cheating my ass off my stomach feels crazy. It wasn’t like I gotta use the bathroom pain it was just a pain. So I ask my bio professor if caffeine has an effect on your stomach.

Bio professor: oh yea it eats away at the lining your stomach.
Safe to say I have no lining on my stomach… Stomach just raw.
I show my professor what I have so far.

Clark: You’re kinda getting there, you need Dirk Nowitzki’s 3 point average in elementary school and Jerry Jones’ lineage and some other things but keep going.
Me: I WILL be a statistic.
Flake came over my house to write his part.. He fell asleep halfway through while I’m shorting out my computer by crying over the mf. 

Made another pot of coffee cause fuck a stomach lining. Chugged it. Peed Folgers. Went to class
72 Hours. No sleep.

By this time I’m hallucinating. I saw monkeys run across the interstate on my way to class. I tried to talk to someone and all I could do was mumble.
I met with Dr. Clark one more time and When he asked me what my problem was I couldn’t speak because I had a lump in my throat.

Dr: Mr.Belafonte if you don’t have anything to say I have a meeting to get to.

Me: I just… I don’t… *Derek Luke tears*

I don’t know what you want… And I’ve wrote 4 pages every night and it’s not right. And I don’t wanna be in college anymore cause of this project and they hiring at Food lion distribution. I don’t know where those monkeys came from on i95 And the news ain’t say anything about them missing and now I’m sad cause they got unclaimed chimps in Petersburg.

Dr: Mr. Belafonte calm down… Get it together… I’ve seen you’re dedicated and,it’s admirable. Just tell me how many minutes Mike Jones uses  on his phone plan since his he gave his phone number out, and you’ll be on the right track. No go to the restroom and clean yourself up.

Me: *looks in the bathroom mirror* I still don’t know shit… *boo hoos*

Flake sent me his paper so I go into the computer lab to look over it…. Ain’t a complete sentence in these 4 pages. 

I’m screaming into my hands, cussing his ass out. He not there im just venting.

This girl speaks up.

Girl: Teddy,you not right, like I feel like you going in on him you know how he is, don’t be mean.

Me: I’m not being mean, I’ve been working with him about this and all I want is a damn page of something correct. This man has an entire page of shit with red and green lines under them do you know what that means? That means that out of 4 pages this man has one whole page, 250 words that a damn computer program just can’t understand. And he’s ok with that.

So I stay up and fix my paper, and his… Drink another pot of coffee. Booboo’d coffee beans… And went to class.
96 Hours. No sleep.
I was actually very content with my life because I knew I would be admitted to an asylum before the paper was due so everything is ok. I didn’t bother talking to Dr. Clark because at this point fuck him. The paper was due tomorrow and we decided that he was gonna get whatever we had.

I go home, stay up and write my paper and edit Flakes final draft. Drink a pot of coffee. Trim the coffee bean plant in my toilet bowl. 

I turn the paper in and pray that Dr. Clark either gets fired or goes back to the Bahamas for good. 
I slept for 16 Hours. The semester was over. Boris finally pops up and gives me a phone call.

Boris: Aye bruh… Guess what… Dr. Clark said our shit was so bad he had no clue what anybody was talking about and couldn’t find a grade low enough to give us so he gave us C’s and quit.
That’s cool with me. Class of 2011 HOE!
To my brother in Louisiana I hope this raises your spirits a bit. To anyone going through this I’m praying for you and I love you.

Until next time folk!

Join the Conversation

1 Comment

  1. 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂 chimps in the burg, trimming coffee bean plant Lol funny

Leave a comment

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: