Porno Makes the World Go Round



Porno Makes the World Go Round


So I’m at the Lindbergh Marta Station freezing my ass off while waiting for the train when I get smacked with a serious case of “bus blues.” Bus blues is a condition I often get anytime I’m waiting for a ride. Somewhere along the wait I get bored and my mind begins to wonder. Naturally I start to ponder every decision I’ve ever made up to the point and ask myself if I made the correct choices. The answer is usually “no.” After texting my moral dilemma to everyone in my address book, the train finally arrives.

It’s 40 minutes after the hour at this point and the Metro Pointe shuttle only comes once every hour, usually 20 minutes after the hour. Normally I’d suck it up and wait at the North Ave station for 20 minutes but I had recently bought a weekly ticket and was feeling a lil frisky. I decided to get off at the Midtown station and try to beat the Metro Pointe shuttle by taking an alternate Marta bus. It’s when I get off the bus that I realize I have no idea where I am.


After wandering around the grimy streets decorated with debris and illuminated by the aura of street lamps, I begin to doubt myself. I’m in a seedy part of town at night with a huge “come mug me” book bag strapped on my back. Commen sense tells me things could go from bad to worse at any moment so I take a time out to send a txt to various people letting them no where I am just in case the worst happens. And that’s when I see it.


Like a beacon of heavenly light shining in the darkness of the night. A sign from the cosmos telling me that I had not yet been abandoned. Just a mere few yards in front of me glowed the neon pink sign of “Insurrection: Adult Novelty Store.” Normally in this situation I’d continue on my way fore I am no pervert who spends money on porn but tonight was different. I was lost and stranded in the middle of who knows where. Anything could happen to me and if I’m gonna get potentially rapped you better bet your ass I’m gonna get one last glimpse of a pair of double d’s before I go down for the count.

I enter the gentleman’s establishment and immediately I am surprised. The first thing I notice is that the prices are pretty steep. Now I’ve never purchased porn before (preferring to steal it for free on the internet), so maybe this is the average way of things but my bargain sense was telling me otherwise. I had come into the store thinking I’d find an assorted array of $5.00 films but obviously this was not the case.


I left the shop, asking the clerk if they were hiring on my way out. Unfortunately he said no and in an instant my new found dream was put to rest. Nevertheless, I vowed to one day return. As I ventured back on to the mean streets of downtown Atlanta, I realized something. Maybe it was the kind gentleman with the purple dildo enshrouded in his black plastic bag who held the door open for me so I could enter or maybe it was the friendly clerk who greeted me with a smile but somehow, inside that shop, all life’s problems seemed to evaporate into the atmosphere. And that was when it hit me, porn shops are like the chicken soup for the lonesome soul.


In it’s solitary nature, in your moss infested basement, porn is the ultimate evil, stashed away in hidden folders on your desktop and secret crevices in your sock drawer. But once cast out of the darkness and into the light among its own, porn can be the great healer of men and bringer  together of nations. And yet we as a people we turn up our noses to these proud servants of the smut.


In my life I have been victim to the ugliness of beauty, the judgment of strangers, and the betrayal of friends. And in my life I have uglied the beautiful, strangered the judgmental, and betrayed both friends and family. Yet in this shop, I was an equal among my fellow man. This seemingly mundane experience I think has changed me. And that’s when I had to ask myself, could prono be my new religion? No way! It’s preposterous to even think such a thing. Or is it? I have “heard” tales of men walking on water but behold with my own eyes I have “seen” a lady gush forth with all the waters of her inner being.


Until next time…


Rashad Trek 3: The Quest For Porn

~Metro Point Saga~


Rashad Trek 3: The Quest For Porn


A week had gone by since the Insurrection incident yet the prospect of returning to the magical porn shop had been been burning in my brain since. I knew the only way to quell the fire was to go back and finish what I had started, To make history and do what no other Rashad Rush had done before. Many of you reading this may be thinking, “so what, congrats on being a perv and buying what you could get for free;” but you would be wrong in your assessment.

The mission, this quest, was not simply about buying porn. It was about the adventure of one man defying the odds and obtaining his dream of employment in an adult themed environment. A vision that I like to believe all men share, of working side by side with the working girls of America and shouting, “I am!” But in order to fully tell this tale I have to begin at the beginning.


The day began as any other. I awoke to my first sensation of the morning, pain. Due to me being a gym rat, I’m constantly running miles, beefing up, and defying the limitations of mere mortals. I immediately groan as I remember that I have a gradient drawing due in a few days. After a light breakfast of Life maple syrup and brown sugar cereal, a pear, and tilapia fish, I procrastinate with my PS2 for a few hours before I finish up my drawing.


With my homework finished and maximum fun time achieved on my PS2, I noticed I had some free time before class. Just enough time in fact to embark on a quest. I jumped to my feet, turned my swag on, put on my grey running shoes and cream hoodie and walked out the door. Before I left I paused and took a look back at the life I was leaving behind.


Would I survive this trip? And if I did, would I be the same? Who knows, but for the price of porn, my goddess it was worth it. I made my way outside and thanked the heavens that there was no rain in sight. No sooner than I lift my foot to take another step, the sky begins to drizzle. I thought for a moment, maybe I should turn back and wait for a sunnier day. My feet however had their toes on the prize and I continued to march.


Half way out of the parking lot of my dormitory, Lady Misfortune strikes yet again. I’m walking along the side walk when all of a sudden a maelstrom of knats appears out of no where and begin buzzing all around me. All I could do was cover my eyes and mouth as I soldiered through the fog of pests. Free of the knats, I was now off campus grounds and the real test would begin. Could I navigate my way to my destination without getting lost?


Amazingly, I made it to Insurrection with no quarrel but now I was at a crossroads. I could take the easy route, go to Insurrection and call it a day or I could do the unthinkable; skip Insurrection, put a two step in my Magellan and explore the many other porn shops down the road. When ever I make a tough decision I sometimes fall back on the words of friends and they would always tell me “Rashad stop being lazy and do it the right way.” For once I took their advice. Against the elements and the zooming automobiles I battled on till I passed the kingdom of Tech. As I climbed over the hill separating Ga Tech from the main street, I saw something I had only before heard of in old wise tales, the Salvation Army.


As a youth, I had heard stories of the Salvation Army. A great kingdom where the common folk donated their old goods where they could be bought again at next to nothing prices. My good friend John had once told me stories of when he used to work there. His tales of discount video games and rare items had always enthralled me and I knew I had to see if the legends were true with my own eyes. And what is an adventure without its side quest so into the doors of the Salvation Army I entered.


As a veteran bargain hunter, it was easy for me to scan the store for multimedia items. With my target engaged I headed to the back of the store. I saw nothing that caught my fancy, just a bunch of old cassette tapes, records, and books. I decide to browse the cd stack in hopes of finding a rare gem. During my browsing, this older woman began to make conversation with me. Already I could tell she was a hungry cougar lookin for a quick meal.


Apparently this cougar was a teacher looking for some wholesome holiday music for a Christmas play they were giving to the kids at her school, or so she says. My suspicions of her cougary were fully confirmed when she suggested I try the Sunset Park soundtrack and quickly added in “so how old are you? I tell her I’m 23 and she replies “oh you’re probably too young for this.” I could have countered her ignorance with a “Sunset Park it’s time to represent! Sunset Park what time is it?” but that would have prolonged the conversation. Any other day I would of busted out a cool 23 (Jordan!) and combo’d with an “in college” but I didn’t have time to play with this cat. I was a man on a mission and that mission was porn.


After purchasing a Talib Kwali: Quality and Gang Starr: Moment of Truth, I resumed my quest. After walking for a few more minutes I finally found my target, Studio 63. Studio 63 was a strip club that had its own discount video library. I walked up to the door and rang the buzzer for entry into its ebon gates. Seconds passed and no one came. I began to get nervous. Maybe this was a bad idea?


Suddenly if felt as if the entire world was watching me. I wanted to just walk away but I had come so far. If I left without proof of the journey everyone would think of me a punk. So I rang the buzzer again. Shortly afterwards, a lady answered the door in full stripper uniform which included a black bra, panties, purple stockings, and heels. I told her I was looking for the video room and she politely informed me that the video room was next door. Then she called me sweetie and went back inside.


My self respect points increased instantly by 100. Not only did I talk to a stripper but she called me sweetie. Fuck yeah! Once again my boyish good looks charm another victim. I enter the door on my left and walk up the staircase. On my right is a brightly lit room, its walls decorated to the brim with cases of brightly assorted dvds. In the center of the room lies a circle of rectangular steps. Behind the steps are glass cases full of multicolored condoms in assorted shapes and sizes.


Behind the glass fortress of condoms sits a thickly shaped woman. As explore the walls I am immediately disappointed. This store had the word “discount” in its title but the first thing I see is as $30.00 movie. As I continue to search, the cheapest movies I can find are priced at $16 bucks. Clearly I had been lied to. Clearly there were no discounts to be found in this store.


I continued to rummage a while longer while the clerk watched her Tyra Banks show and finally made my decision. While checking out, I asked if they were hiring and to my surprise she said the manager was looking for someone last week. She gave me a business card and told me to call back in the morning.


As I walked back home I reviewed my accomplishments for the day. New music, cougar attack, compliment from a stripper, and possible job opportunity. Long story short, mission accomplished.


The Wandering Wolf Movement Known to Earthlings As Rashad



The Wandering Wolf Movement Known to Earthlings As Rashad

I started off today waking up early, around 7am to catch the shuttle so I could go to AIA and take a proficiency exam to try and test out of a class I had taken previously. As soon as I exit my room and turn the corner, I see a Styrofoam plate full of lasagna and a metal fork randomly sitting in the middle of the labyrinth like hallway. I immediately take a time out to thank the Universe for warning me that today was gonna be random as fuck. As I’m riding the shuttle and listening to the radio, I overhear that Columbus Day is today and that some schools and offices had been closed for the evening. I immediately go into a mental rant about how Christopher Columbus is a bitch ass capital J buster who didn’t discover anything but how to rape and massacre an entire indigenous people and get famous for it. So I proceeded to call Borders, my place of employment for the past year and a half and volunteered to work today. Cause I’ll be damned if I get suckered in to recognizing a fake holiday.

So after I organize my thoughts into a well written rant to post on Facebook, cause that’s how exciting my life is at the moment, I walk into the school building to try and get this test off my chest like breast reduction. When I enter the administration room, the guy in charge tells me that the office won’t be open until another hour at 9am. After wasting an hour’s worth of time respecting the resolve and courage of a limbless man competing in an MMA match but at the same time laughing my ass off at a limbless man competing in an MMA match at a venue aptly titled “ALABAMA PRIDE,” I head back upstairs to get to the business of education. I speak with another guy, who at first glance I deduced got his job by the people he knew rather than his skills, and he tells me the lady that administers the test would be busy teaching a class for the majority of the day and that no one else would be available to administer the test to me. He tells me I could drop out of the class today and try to take the test later on in the week, but honestly, I barely remembered much of the subject material so I decided to not screw myself over and stay in the class.

Easy “A” for me I guess. I go back downstairs to wait for the shuttle but I’m informed that the shuttle actually stops in the opposite direction. Ha-ha, nice try Mistress Misfortune! Before I go to the proper bus stop, I visit the school store to check the prices of their portfolios. I browse around a bit before I meet this thickish, chunky guy who works there and answers my query. I tell him that I’m an animation major, he gets excited, and we somehow delve into a conversation.

He tells me his name but of course I immediately forget. I think it starts with an “S.” Well, S tells me that if I’m ever at the building in the morning that he and his friends are always in the cafeteria playing video games. I Take him up on his invitation and as I turn around to leave, Island Girl enters the scene.

As soon as Island Girl sees me she immediately walks over to say ‘hi” (yaaay! No spit columns in your mouth today)but when she approaches, I’m in this weird predicament with me at the end of saying my “see ya laters” to S positioned on my upper left and the beginning of saying my “how you doins” with Island Girl parked on my upper right. Somehow I manage to say what I need to say to both of them without getting myself tongue tied and sounding incomprehensible like I usually do. I think I’m in the clear but as fate would have it, they both extend their hands at the same time! Now I’m in that awful position where I have to pick one hand to shake first at the risk of alienating the other person as if to say, “your hand is being left to rot in the cold, icy, air and currently has not been embraced by the warmness of my hospitable palm because I deem you less important to the person I choose to shake hands with first….bitch.” Oh Mistress Misfortune, you always do seem to get the last laugh. As I mentally curse my luck, I execute this weird crossover thing with my arms so I can shake both of their hands at the same time. S then asks Island Girl if she needs help finding anything. She tells him what ails her and I see my opportunity to escape so I take it.

What I really wanted to do however was to stick around a bit and see if everything was going smoothly for her but the weirdness of the situation made me retreat. Thus, the King of missed opportunities strikes again. While I’m back on Marta, on my way to Art Center Station, I get bored so naturally I begin to day dream about something stupid and or crazy. This moments topic of choice being, “what if I orchrastrated one of those call in radio promotions where you win prizes and stuff.”

So naturally I decide to text a select group of people a grand invitation announcing my official return from exile. With the winner receiving an all exclusive opportunity to hang out with the man, the myth, the future folk lore himself aka the Wandering Wolf, me. Yes I know, such a prize to be wasted on a single individual should be a crime in itself but what can I say, today I was feeling charitable. Ya gotta give back!

The text serves its purpose as I manage to crack a few smiles and here from people I haven’t heard from in a while. There were many calls and texts competing for the number one spot but ultimately the grand prize went to the lucky winner of Alyssa Lewis who had the fastest time of 36 seconds after the original post was sent. Honorable mentions go out to the King of Ethiopia in 2nd place, the Queen of Winford Housing projects in 3rd, and Bec Bec in 4th. Thank you all for playing.

After having my fun with the contest, the bus drops me off in front of Kroger and I buy my trademarked box of cereal in the flavor of Trix. After escaping the heavy rainfall, I do some work at SCAD until I arrive at the winner’s location. As I wait outside the gated paradise that is the 1660 Apartment complex, I am greeted by the winner of the “Wandering Wolf Movement Contest.” We then board an expensive futuristic type machine which elevates us to the floor of our choice.

We then proceed to enter the apartment. Immediately I notice the culture change as I am forced to remove my foot wear by the door. “Surely these people are the descendants of Kings,” I thought to myself. From then on I am treated with TOP NOTCH service as the hostess serves me with a wonderful lunch of spicy noodles and chicken chunks. After eagerly devouring the four star meal, we then begin an educated discussion of politics, culture, and the benefits of honest thievery.

The hours quickly passed however and it was time for me to fulfill my book selling duties at Borders. I bid good day to the fair lady as she engaged in her, which I assume, daily routine of getting molested by two other gentlemen whose names I will not mention fore thou is not a snitch. I leave the lavish apartment with a smile spread across my face as the sounds of “No Jack, you’re too big,” echo behind me. Who would have thought that in these dark days of the recession that good ol American traditions such as whoring were still common place in the households of average citizen?

Many more hours past and I end my shit for the day. From Borders I travel to the Winwood Housing projects, chill with its natives, and retire for the night. All things considered, I guess today was a good day.



Will Rashad Eat Today? The Race Against Time!



 Will Rashad Eat Today? The Race Against Time!


It was still my first week at the Art Institute and I was finally taking my last class of the week. The day started off rough however. The night before I was resurrected from my death of boredom by three friends to see Toy Story I and II. But this just wasn’t any normal double feature, this double feature…was in 3D! I didn’t get back home until 1am and went to bed at around 2am.

So you can guess, the next morning I awoke with a late start. A soon as I realized the time, I gurgled some mouth wash, painted my arm pits with Old Spice,and made a mad dash from my room on the 7th floor to the 1st floor of the loft. Luckily, the bus had yet to arrive so I wait for it in the waiting room. 30 minutes pass and the bus still hasn’t shown up so one of the resident assistants takes pity on our small brigade, mans a shuttle, and drives us to the Marta station.

After getting to the station, I meet a lady in a yellow shirt named Alisha. Since we were both new, direction less, and heading to AIA, we buddied up. After arriving at AIA, I go to my drawing class on the 4th floor. In what seems like an eternity, the class ends and I hop back on Marta.

After taking a quick accidental detour to the airport station, I make it back to the appropriate location. It’s around this time, while waiting on the shuttle that I realize I’m almost out of food at my loft. Let me rephrase that, I have about an hour’s worth of food left at my loft. I call a few of my friends to see if anyone’s home, just in case something goes wrong. Of course no one answers so I decide to go back to my loft and check the bus schedule to make sure I won’t get stranded.

I get home at 4:30pm and the shuttle continues to run until 7pm. I decide that’s enough time to run to Kroger and make it back to the bus stop in time. So I put my plan into action and begin my, long march from the 7th floor to the bus stop. Along the way I meet a lady just moving into the loft from somewhere in the islands whose name alludes me at the moment. Because of my horrible memory, I don’t recall much of her appearance other than she had a somewhat cute face but ever time she opened her mouth to speak, globs of saliva formed vertical columns along her upper and lower lips.After navigating “island girl” to the waiting room, I board the bus.

After being entertained by the outlandish stories of high school youth and various comedy routines from my fellow bus mates, I get off the shuttle and jog to Kroger. But this is no ordinary jog, it’s a race against time. The outcome of this mission determines if I eat dinner tonight or starve for the following 4 days. I check my watch and it’s already 5’o clock. I continue the race against time, making a mental check list of the groceries I want to buy as to not waste time when I arrive.

As the situation wasn’t dramatic enough, all of a sudden the sky decides it wants to rain so now my “race against time” is now also a “race to stay dry.” But it was all good as my natural lightning like speed, combined with the wind factor and precipitation in the air allowed for a bomb ass bouncing, flowing hair effect. And at the end of the day, that’s the reason all us lion maned guys grow our hair in the first place; so it can cascade majestically behind us like the cape of a costumed crusader. I’m glad to report that the “race against time” was a success and I got in and out of Kroger and back to the bus stop with an hour to spare. I wonder what misadventures tomorrow will bring?





Birthday Pains: The Art of Gift Giving

Over the years I’ve found that people genuinely get excited about planing someone elses birthday and that’s cool because their mind is in the right place but their heart’s usually aren’t. I’ve found that when people want to celebrate “YOUR” birthday what they really want to do is celebrate “THEIR” birthday at your expense. How else do you explain getting a book by your intellectual friend when you’re a non-reader or getting a basketball from your sporty friend when you haven’t played a pick up game since the 3rd grade?

There are only two explanatiosn to explain this horrible instance in gift giving.

a) the person doesn’t know you

b) the person doesn’t care about what you want, he/she is going to give you what he/she wants you to have.

Obviously the answer for most cases is going to fall under b). The act of gift giving should be treated like an art form. When giving a gift you should take time to discover the person, his/her likes, dislikes, interests and so on. This should be a cherished time where you discover a little bit more about this person you call friend, lover, or homie-lover-friend. If you’re going to soil the whole art by doing a half assed job then it’s probably better to give them nothing instead of a horrible gift which will only disappoint them leaving that person to ask the question “why did you get me this? Don’t you know me?”

Remember put your ego on hold and before buying that oh so special  cardigan sweater on sale for $59.99, ask yourself… is this what Tyrone would want.”

Ironically, even though my personal great to horrible b-day ratio is slanted toward the negative, I’m awesome at planning them out for other people. I guess it’s because I know too well the pain of disappointment so I always go above and beyond the call of duty to make sure the individual ends their day with a smile on their face and a great memory to add to the databank. I guess I care too much. It’s both a gift and a curse.

Pretty sure I just blew it with a girl. Maybe?

Was in an orientation class doodling some stuff when she initiated verbal communication with me. Going by this I deduce that she doesn’t think I’m a weirdo cause no one initiates a conversation with a weirdo. (+1) for me. I manage to navigate my way through our short conversation without saying anything embarrassing and we exit the orientation.

As we’re in line waiting for applications to work for one of the various tv shows, I want to strike up another conversation but I see that she was waiting to talk to the person passing out fliers so I bide my time. Unfortunately I bide too long and she walks down the hallway and turns the corner, forever exiting my life…or so I thought (-1).

I walk down the hallway and glance to my left and see that she’s sitting on a bench filling out her application. Not wanting to walk directly to her and seem obvious, I make a right and head for the water fountain. After a quick sip and walk back to her and sit next to her on the couch (+1).

I initiate contact this time with minimal success and we sit there for about 15 minutes or so filling out applications with occasional chit chat (+1). She then gives me a compliment on my name to which I IMMEDIATELY denounce cause I’m an idiot (-1) but she laughs it off so I guess that’s (+1)? But this is how I know I messed up. It’s the same rookie mistake I always make. But maybe I’m reading too much into it you tell me.

She gets up to leave and she kinda pauses for a long time. And I’m not sure what she wants so in my haste to not embarrass myself I say “I’ll see you later.” We do the whole awkward goodbye with smiles and she walks away. Do you think all that time she was standing there, she was waiting for me to ask for her number or some kind of contact information? I feel like that was my moment to ask for it but it completely slipped my mind. Damnit, I’m so out of practice.