You STILL mad, bro?

25 Jan

If you haven’t heard yet, Richard “You mad bro?” Sherman is a despicable, sub-human being. He’s monkey, meets ape, meets thug and had a baby with ignorant, cocky and terrorist. People were too eager to hurl slurs and epithets at him from behind the shield of the monitor lights. I  caught the interview – I watched the game with friends.  We replayed it about 20 times. It was h-i-l-a-r-i-o-u-s to us.  (Please don’t treat us anything close to the way Sherman was treated. Before you rush to call us ignant, uneducated thug-monkies, everyone present was college educated, 75% have advanced degrees, two teach at a college and one is writing a book. Also, I spelled ignorant that way on purpose).  For some reason it instantly made me think of the Tom Brady ‘You mad bro’ incident.  Before I went to bed, I tried to buy a Sherman shirt online. Then I woke up.

And it was mayhem! Everyone was out to crucify Sherman, and little of it had nothing to do with his post-game antics. It’s football. Isn’t trash talking the norm? I’m a track athlete, but I love football. There’s not much trash talking in track (my sport is other sports punishment. After punishment there’s not much left for trash talk), and there’s always someone trying to stir up a rivalry so there’d be trash talking. Be we don’t. We’re too tired, but in the NFL it’s rampant.  Just to be inducted into the pot calling the kettle black hall of fame – Tom Brady weighs in.

“I’ve watched him play. He’s that kind of guy. So, you know. I approach the game — and I have respect for my opponents. That’s the way our team always plays. We win with graciousness, and when we lose, we could do better. Some teams don’t always do that, or that’s not their program.” Excuse me?? Without even counting SPYGATE, here’s a few reasons Mr Brady should’ve said “no comment” and kept it moving.

1. This video of his wife after his 2012 loss.

2.  This picture. Not only because I LOVE it, but because of what precipitated it.  Apparently, Brady told Sherman and company “come see me after we win”. Sounds like trash talking to me. In a cruel twist of fate, they lost. RSTweet_original

3. Spygate.  Yes, I know I said I wouldn’t mention it, but seriously. Come on guy, you cheated.

4. Just last year, he karate kicked Ed Reed in the AFC championship game. I forget, did they win that one? Hmmmmm

5. There was also the 2007 playoffs when the Patriots player mocked the Chargers and danced on their logo after defeating them. I guess they were that kind of guys, and that was them showing respect for their opponents.

6. Because there’s a reason this keeps happening.

It takes a different mindset to crush your opponent in the field of play, then come back to earth and be your rational, humble self. Many times athletes aren’t given the opportunity to do that, we want to know as soon as it happens what’s going through their minds. And sometimes we hear it. Tom Brady should be able to relate to that, no? But he made his comments the next day. After he slept on it, had time to think about it, re-evaluate his actions and all that he’s done that was/is deemed unsportsmanlike. And still opened his mouth and called himself classy. Why are you still mad, bro?

Inspiration 101

15 Jan

In 2007 I was doing a year of service with the Americorps program, Public Allies.  On my way to and from work, I’d find the most interesting looking person, and write a short story about them.  I recently moved and found some of them. This one was inspired by a ‘looker’ of a man that came in with a boy around 6 years old. By their body language, I could tell that he was mad. A female homeless panhandler came and shared a sob story. I couldn’t remember which scripted line she used, but at some point she lost her balance and almost fell on the boy. She said something to him that I didn’t hear, but the whole car saw the father stand up and yell, ‘what the f&^k did you say to my son?’. She bolted off the train without saying another word. Also, EVERY male in my stories was named Desmond. I don’t know why, I think I was in love with a Desmond at the time.

The story 

Desmond struggled on to the uptown 9 train, Tim laboring on behind him. He struggled to think what he’d tell the boy’s mother. He got the call today because she had the day off from everything – work, her life as a mother and as a wife. She’d turned her phone off while she got pampered.  So that’s why he was the one at the school listening to how his son brought 3 pictures of his naked mistress. Pictures Desmond had put in an envelope and taped to the bottom of a chest in the boy’s room. Why did he move it? HOW did he even move it; it was made of solid wood and metal and weighed at least 100 pounds. He couldn’t focus on those questions long though. The image of his wife’s face let him know he had bigger problems. He winced.

A seat opened up and he shoved the boy into the open space. He groaned his acceptance of the punishment without looking at his father.  Desmond held on to the handle bar, resting his head on his wrist.  He couldn’t focus on any one aspect of his plight, or on anything going on around him.  He didn’t hear he spiel about how she became homeless, or how much just 50 cents would do to improve the quality of her life.  He just felt her fall into him as the train stopped suddenly.  Instinctively, he caught her.  With gratitude, she whispered ‘this is exactly where I want to be and who I want to be with’. Then her smelled her – the stench caused him to drop her – hard –  he couldn’t resist the urge to cover his mouth and nose and heave.  He tried to focus, see her face. But the putrid smell clouded his eyes. She gathered herself and stumbled off the train.  He never thought he’d forget her walk, but life must’ve broken her, because there was nothing familiar about the way she hobbled off. She turned and looked at him as the door closed and smiled. Nothing about the evil face looked familiar. Then she laughed.  A loud,  cascading laugh that sent a wave of guilt through his body.


Desmond and Sarita were college sweethearts who started shacking up immediately after they graduated.  Neither ever remembers whose idea it was, or if they even discussed it.  Just that they looked for an apartment together and moved in. She was a nurse, and he worked at an entry level position at an investment bank on Wall Street.  In the 90’s, nurses made more than the little guys on Wall Street. So while he struggled to maintain his wardrobe as he worked his way up, she carried them. They probably didn’t see it that way because they were happy. They were happy even after his company down-sized and he was out of work for 6 months.  They were content still six months later when he took a job as a Manager at Costco’s, almost an hour’s drive outside the City.  They’d bought a lopsided Ford Tempo to get him to work and back home to his love. Everyday he came home she greeted him with a long hug. She would wrap her arms around his waist and bury her head in his neck and whisper “I love you baby. This is exactly where I want to be and with who I want to be with.” And every day he’d inhale deeply and say in mocking disbelief ‘Yea? You sure?’ She’d look up at him with a faux insulted look on her face, and she’d kiss  him so he’d believe her.  They’d spend a few more moments holding each other and swaying in silence.

They weren’t so happy on the 3 year anniversary of him landing the Costco gig.  Well, it was supposed to be just that. At some point he stopped looking for something else. She didn’t say anything, she just got silent. And the way she sat hesitatingly at the edge of the bed worried him.  It seemed as if she wanted to tell him something – then changed her mind.  She’d exhale deeply and go to sleep.  It got to him. She wasn’t happy and he knew he was the reason why.  He thought of how she used to be with him. He was thinking of her when he quit his job at Costco to look for his dream full time. If he dedicated all his time for the search, he’d have no choice but to succeed.

She kissed him with relief when he told her what he’d done.  When he came home from his first interview decked out in his old power-suit, she had a surprise waiting for him.  She’d traded in the lopsided Tempo for an Acura.  She whole-heartedly supported the big chance he took, so she took one on him.  She never wavered – not in the first three months.

She was steadfast at the sixth month too, but by then he wasn’t even looking anymore.  She’d say good-bye to him and he’d leave in his powerless suit and the car she bought him and go to the local bar. Or to the movies. Sometimes he’d have company – and when they didn’t just do it in the movies, they’d go to her place. He promised himself he’d quit her when Sarita told him she was pregnant, and wrapped her arms around his waist and whispered to him that she’s where she wanted to be, and with whom she wanted to be.Although the pregnancy was getting difficult for Sarita, she still had to work because he wasn’t.  And when the baby kicked, forcing her to sit at the edge of the bed, it reminded him of the times she sat there, no doubt  contemplating  telling him what a burden he’d become to her. He’d already broken his promises to take care of her, so it was easy for him to break the promise he made to himself.

She still loved him, even after he stopped bothering to get out of bed to see her off to work. And he no longer felt guilt when his company showed up mere minutes after she left wobbling off to work.  His indifference to his house-guest made her want him more, and her need fed him. So even though he was going through the motions, it was enough for him to continue.  There was no feeling in it.  He only felt something that day, when he was in mid-stroke and heard a quiet whimper and a thud. Sarita had returned just moments after she’d left, and saw them. He didn’t remember how he got to her or when his company left. When the paramedics came they had to peel her out of his arms – her face drenched with his tears. He’d been her entire world for a long time, and no one calling themselves her friend or family was there to sit with him in the ER while he waited for her to get out of surgery.  He cried alone when they told him she lost the baby.

He took great care of her when they released her, like a cracked egg. She didn’t say a word to him, she never looked at him. She moved out of his way when he walked by her in the hall, and moved aside when he reached for his toothbrush in the bathroom.  Her silence made him angry, and he felt every emotion except guilt.  And when he woke her up late one night to tell her that he’s where he wanted to be, and with who he wanted to be with, she asked him to leave.

He never saw her after that. He used to sit out front of the apartment building hoping to see her but never did. He didn’t know if she moved or if she died.  She just disappeared. He met a woman he got to know well enough to marry, and by the time Tim was born he had stopped thinking about Sarita.

The Writing Assignment – Four

26 Jun

By now, you should know why I’m making you read this.  If not, go to the last two posts.  For today’s prompt, we read Halibut by Etgar Keret. We had to write a story about two people arguing in a public place.  Something supernatural is introduced.  I had ten minutes, and ran out of time before I completed the story.  Here goes…

“I’m not a menace Auntie, don’t say that”.  I smile inwardly.  At three, he says menace.  “Taj, your teacher called me again.  She said you were rolling around on the floor when she’s trying to teach.” She waved the scantily clad waiter away. She didn’t want any bread, neither was she ready to order.  Taj blinked rapidly, near tears.  You can call him many things, nothing can illicit a response like menace though. If she hadn’t paid full price for his plane ticket, he’d be home with his parents.  

The waiter sashayed past them.  Why was he wearing speedos? Although it was indoors, Terminal 4 at JFK wasn’t that warm.  She looked at her watch, they had a full hour before they boarded the flight to Atlanta.  She wanted to make sure she makes her point before that.  She knew they’ll both be asleep for the whole flight.  And after she told you to stop, you got up and kept running around the table.”

Taj had been the perfect baby, he didn’t cry much, completely skipped the terrible-twos.  Or postponed it.  Saved it all up until he got into daycare.  “I was a good boy Auntie”, he sobbed.  The disappointment was making her thirsty.  She waved over the young muscular waiter.  “I’ll have a Spritzer.” She paused, looking at her nephew.  “And a belt for the young man!”.  Taj started.  He looked around, embarrassed.  “But Auntie…”. “That’s right! For your butt.  You want to act up in school, you’ll pay the price”.  He could not longer hold back his tears. “Auntie..please..”.  The waiter came back with the water.  Neatly rolled up on his tray, was a black belt with a snake’s head for a buckle.


Taj and Auntie, when he was a few months old.

The Writing Assignment – Three

25 Jun

As I’ve mentioned, I’m taking this intense writer’s summer seminar. Close to the beginning of each class, we have a writing assignment.  We read something, then we have ten minutes to complete the impromptu task.  Today’s was to create a series of mini-stories that are connected thematically. I completed two and a half in the ten minutes – no one in my class was able to guess my theme.  Please comment or send me your guesses. Here goes….


I pick up the oranges, bruised apples and crushed bananas off the ground.  I don’t bother with the blueberries and strawberries.  I looked around to see if I missed anything, as she pulled her skirt from over her head, and stuffed the contents of her purse back in.  She struggled to get up, and I try to ignore her, brushing dirt of one of the oranges.  I tried hard to hold my expression to only a concerned smile. “Are you OK, Mom?”


The old woman was shaking violently, and the officer had a hard time holding her steady.  “Here. Sit down.” “I’m lost again”, she whimpers.  “It’s OK, we’ll get you home. We can figure this out together. What’s your name?” She looks at him slyly. “Wendy”. “Do you know where you live?”. She looks at him puzzled, and slightly annoyed. “Peter, you know where I live.” The officer casts me a death glare before the entire sound leaves my mouth. I got up and scurried away, embarrassed, as her voice trails off. “Peter, take me back to Neverland…”


The Writing Assigment

23 Jun

I recently went back to school. Kinda. I am taking an intense, rigorous summer seminar for writers.  I had my first assignment today – we had ten minutes to write a story.  I read mine aloud to the class.  No one threw anything at me, so I thought I’d share it here as well. Please don’t try to play me, it’s fiction. Here goes….


Last night I slept with his picture under my pillow.  Allison told me to do it.  She said if I put it out there, he’ll be mine.  Today, when he sits next to me, I’m going to casually ask him out.
I tried that one day last week and it was a mess.  I came to the class we had together.  I’d borrowed Allison’s shoes to make my outfit really pop.  They were half a size too big.  I tripped and fell into my seat.  THe shoes were fine but I almost broke my face.  I was so embarrassed, that was clearly not the right time to ask him.  
The next day we had class outside, and i sat next to him.  I asked Lisa to take a picture so I could pretend that we were together.  She left the flash on.  He saw it, and I heard him tell Jeris what a weirdo she was.  When she started walking towards me I got up and left.  I avoided her all day, I couldn’t let him see me talking to her.
Then there was the time I wrote him a note.  It was a simple, cute little note. It said, “Michael, I like you. Do you like me? Check Yes or No”. Clumsy Tiffany spilled her food just before he sat down.  Now all that was readable was “Michael like check”. When he asked tho wrote it and what it was supposed to say, I ignored him.
Now that i think about it, this is a terrible idea.  I’ve got a cup of cranberry juice in my hand.  I’m wearing a white t-shirt.  This won’t end well. I’m not going to do it.  He sits next to me, and looks at me, puzzled.  He started to say something then stops, takes a deep breath and says “Do you want to go out with me this weekend?”

June 21, 2013 – Validus Prep Academy Keynote Address

22 Jun


Good afternoon faculty, guests, friends and family. Class of 2013, congratulations! It’s an honor and my pleasure to be able to share this wonderful occasion with you.

Since I was a young child, sports has been my metaphor for life. I loved everything about it.  The idea that you devise a plan, put in the work, and see results is in its simplest and purest form the story of human success.  If you think about it, success in the athletic field is a result of many parts working together in harmony.  You can be in the best shape of your life, and still fail if you’re not mentally strong.  And conversely, it doesn’t matter how determined you are to succeed it means nothing if you do not put in the work.  Much of my advice to you was reinforced by my experiences in sports. 

Be kind to the people that share your past, stay connected with the people who  force you to be better. One thing I loved about sports is that unifying element, how it can bring people together. Whether it’s cheering for a team or against the Miami Heat, it can bring people together. When I was injured and side-lined, I had to seek medical back-up.  I couldn’t possibly get better by continuing to do what I was doing. A trainer or doctor was my support.  You have that here. Sitting next to you and around you, are your support system – your family, friends, teachers, and administrators.  Statistics show that there’s a great likelihood that someone in this room could be a future supreme court justice like Bronx native Sonia Sotomayor. Or a Senator, like life long Bronx native Jose Serrano.   Odds are that there are a few of you in this room that will be millionaires in a few years. Now if that’s not you, wouldn’t you at least want to be the friend of that millionaire?

 In 2007, I was recovering from an injury. There were several important international competitions that year, including the World Championships. I was under a lot of pressure to compete. In my heart, I knew I wasn’t ready, and I wouldn’t be in time. But I did anyways, and ended up making a bad injury worse. That negatively affected my morale, and hurt my spirit.  You’re all smart, trust your intuition. As you go on to take on the world as young adults, do not let the things you see, or read, or hear convince you that what you know in your heart to be the truth, is anything else. As you go off to college, work or life in general, your responsibility is not just to learn as much as you can, but to teach others as well.  Make sure that your reality, your history, thoughts and opinions are factored as part of this country’s solution.

In closing, I’d like to say to you that the only reason I’m standing before you here today is because I failed.  More than half of my life was dedicated to reaching one goal – to win just one race, in just one Olympics.  I never did. I tried four times, and fell short each time.  I failed, but I achieved something else.  I am a four time Olympian – and someone pointed out to me that there are fewer four-time Olympians than there are Olympic champions! It’s just not realistic that you will succeed at everything you attempt.  But that doesn’t mean you give up, it doesn’t mean that you become less diligent. You will never know the outcome until after it’s all done.  Be confident. You’ve been properly prepared to succeed by Validus Prep Academy.  Your struggles will make you resilient, hardship builds character and creates leaders.  And wherever life’s journeys take you, come back home to your community, and contribute in a way that leaves a meaningful legacy. 

Thank you, and best of luck in all your endeavors!

The “slings and arrows” of (athletic) retirement

3 Dec

A few years ago, I read an article on He talked about how he’d occasionally ‘let himself go’ in the off-season. Essentially, he took the time off to do NOTHING. He talked about the motivation of knowing that you have to go from sub-zero to 100 in a short period of time. It was a strange carrot (yummm.. carrot cake) to dangle in front of someone, and although I don’t remember all the details of his reasoning, at the time it made sense to me. So much sense that I tried it. That year, I took the time off to discover all kinds of food. If I’ve never had it, I tried it. I lost weight. Clearly it wasn’t for me. Fast forward a few years, and it’s what would otherwise be pre-season 2012-2013. But I’ve retired, so it’s just Fall. Sadly, the damned Ato Boldon workout plan kicked in just a bit late. Just about two months in, I was already 9 pounds heavier.

Shortly after my fourth and final Olympic run, a friend and fellow retiree said to me ‘you not only say good-bye to that (jet-setter) life when you quit track, you’re saying good-bye to some of your friends. They stop calling or coming to see you because they don’t want you to see that they’ve put on weight’. We had a good laugh, some Laughing mattermixed drinks and desserts. On which side of that joke will we be on in one year?

I suppose at some point, we all have to to retire from our beloved sport. If you ran in high school but won’t in college. Or maybe you did run in college, but won’t after. No matter what level we’ve reached, sooner or later you’d be doing less of it, if not stopping all-together. For the past thirteen years, I’ve competed at international competitions in every corner of the world. I ate, slept and breathed Track & Field. I lived a regimented life, trying to fit in my eating, sleeping and practicing to maximize my competition results. I no longer have to do that, and it’s a large gap of time to fill. It doesn’t seem like a lot, you just do something else at whatever time you’re supposed to practice. But it’s not that simple. Your practice determines what and when you eat. When you sleep. You also have to take into account your recovery routine – time you spend getting treatments etc. You’re changing your entire life, and that has to be taken into account.

How do you transition from such an overly-active lifestyle to..well anything less than that, without rapidly gaining weight? I’ve talked to several professional athletes, retired, injured and active, and put together a list of our top six do’s (because as I overheard a coach once say, “I’ don’t do don’ts!”) for the newly retired athlete – professional or otherwise.

1 – DO pre-season. If you’re like most of us, you took some time to celebrate or relax more than when you’re in season. With no competition looming, it will be easy to set into a rut. Do your usual pre-season workouts. It’ll be a huge mistake to try to adjust to your new lifestyle cold turkey. It’s much easier to stay in shape than it is to get in shape/lose weight. Keep practicing the good habits you were ‘forced’ to develop to be successful at your sport. You’ll need them to stay healthy.

2 – DO eat lean. Protein is a track athlete’s best friend. You’re no longer burning calories like you used to. Eat accordingly.

3 – DO find one or two workout buddies.

4 – DO ensure that you set a specific time to workout. If you’re working out at 3 P.M. on Mondays, then that’s what you do. When it’s a routine, you feel it when you miss a 3 P.M. Monday workout.

5 – DO play other sports. On a given week, I’d average upwards of 30 hours per week just working out. Going from that to an hour three times a week is a huge difference and that may show quickly. Playing a game of basketball or tennis is still exercise, but it’s fun. If you’re a sprinter, you’re not used to long or solitary runs, so this may fit that mindset better.

6 – DO have someone create a workout plan for you. Some of us did well to document all of our workouts and can adjust that to suit your new needs. If not, have your coach put together something. Nothing makes you lose your way faster than just going to the gym and doing random exercises without purpose.

What I’ve learned is that there’s a psyche-physio-pseudo threshold, and once you get used to the new life and weight, it becomes harder later on. It’s like that Pingles chips adage: “once you pop, you can’t stop”. Speaking of which, I could really use a snack!

It may sound like I’m complaining, but I’m really not (published days after it was written)

7 Oct

I tried to stay away from all the bad press I’ve heard about New Delhi leading up to the Commonwealth Games. I took the advice of well meaning friends with a grain of salt. For a few reasons: first being that these may be my last Commonwealth Games. I’m no longer that ‘fresh faced young lady with her life ahead of her’. In 2002 I won the 400m at the CWG in Manchester. I had my whole life ahead of me because it was my first appearance at the CWG. I was fresh faced because no one had ever heard of me. I guess I was a young lady because I wasn’t a young man. The second reason was Beijing. Leading up to the 2008 Olympics, you couldn’t escape the bad press. I expected to never make it out of Beijing alive. I thought I’d suffocate to death, be poisoned, mauled, mugged or meet my maker through some other exciting demise. No such luck. After the Games, Beijing was rated as the best Olympics to date. As a participant of the last three, that was the closest thing to the truth since our manager uttered: I didn’t know that’s what I was here for!

The problem this time around was that there were pictures. Lots of them. Good lord and the videos. Beware of building 12 was the emailed mantra. After a while I wasn’t sure what id heard, read, or imagined. But I was doing race paced 300m in practice when it was two months past what would normally be the end of my season. So I was going to New Delhi. My coping mechanism was to think of it this way: countries are just saying those things to thin out the competition pool and maximize their medal haul. So, the best thing I could do was come prepared. And I was prepared…for a famine in the middle of nowhere more so than the CWG. I have enough supplies for a large family or a really tiny country. I had hand sanitizers, disinfectant (wipes and spray), pillow cases and sheets, blanket, dry food, snacks, towels… And that’s not all. But you get the point. I could open an infirmary. But that would be unnecessary, since there’s a polyclinic.

To date I haven’t eaten anything I brought. The food is good. There’s a track IN THE VILLAGE! That I’ve never experienced. I literally can roll out of bed, practice, then eat and repeat. I would’ve repeated, except it’s two months past the date that I should be doing any strenuous activity. This isn’t to say that there weren’t any glitches. Oh there were tons of glitches.

We got here and there was no way to turn of the air conditioners that were on full blast. Forgive me mother nature, but we had to sleep with the doors open (screens closed of course). No one warned me about the daily spray for mosquito and insects so woke up choking on fumes because of the open doors. Then there’s the dust…expected because we are occupying a construction zone. Phone and internet were not working, but they were working on it. There was (still isn’t) enough ice to take an ice bath. But a cool bath was still refreshing. There was a three day wait for massage because thee was only one therapist. I clean my room myself because I feel terrible seeing the woman as old as my grand mother on her knees wiping my floor. Judging from the other rooms, the younger cleaners weren’t up to the task anyways. There was a running joke that they were just redistributing muck instead of cleaning. I have heard stories about drivers leaving people stranded, apparently the 300rupees- about $7US- they’re (rumored) being paid wasn’t worth the complaining and harsh words. I’ve stood there in awe as one team leader (hint: manager from a team other than Guyana but stayed fairly close tom our building) ripped a volunteer a new orifice. On a visit to a local temple, I was push so hard I almost fell. I turned around and saw a man glaring at me. I thought ‘hatred…anger….displacement’.

It seems like a lot, but on the grand scheme of things it really isn’t. When putting on something of this scale, there will be no way to make everyone happy. I think what makes this different from other Games is that this one is littered with politics and conflicting interests by various groups.

Next episode: “Why I won’t suck popsicles in public anymore”

It looks oddly the same to me…

29 Oct

The first picture is of me in 2006. The other is a recent print ad campaign appearing in a fitness magazine this month


The Jasper years…

1 Oct

On the way to an amusement park with then team mate and friend, Robyn WatersRecently, many of my friends have dug into the archives and shared some pictures of our college days.  The walk down memory lane had me feeling nostalgic. So I tried to share a few via Facebook. Much later, the server wasn’t allowing me to upload them.  So I decided to share them here.  Here are a few of my hundreds of pics chronicling my college years. It brought back fond memories. I miss you guys, we were so young and innocent then.

Please feel free to share and comment.

That was one of my favorite shirts. Pictured with team mates Tiffanie Poole and Shona SandlinMen's team

Best room mate ever. NenFablulosity!We managed to fit a couch in our tiny dorm roompookie dreadsshaft mcnastyMogul in training. CEO of www.singersroom.comsac pase?movie star looks even way back then. (I'm talking about Leslie K)Team after one of our many MAAC winsJust a bunch of girls on the IRTDoing a fashion show with two of my closest friends. I got my money's worth out of that dress. I still wear it!Spring fling dance/boat ride. Still not sure why I was in jeans...Not sure, but I guess I was just learning how to work the camerapookie dreadsBlock M Dinner/ Manhattan College Awards BanquetThat dress againWhere are these guys? Well I know where the moul is...Myself, Tiff, ColeyAll smilesI still want to know who stole that hat!With shazzmatazz at the Hurricane meet in FloridaStef and Becky trying to figure out the symbols on a vase I madeCame to college best friends. left college best friends. Joe and ShaMC's finest. lolFlex, CJ and SullyCheering team mates on at a cross country meetShe will make me pay for thisMe and LacoleHe's not a Jasper! But he wishes he wasWe just have to be the best dressed team!Mr KaneMidnight Madness. I think EVERYONE is in this picLegendsWas I...DANCING?????Myself and then coachRecord setting relay teamI love the facial expressionsCompetition in AZFamily affairSpring break in MiamiWeekend trip to Syracuse. I met Spragga on this oneGo team!How many hairstyles did I have?Game night! Most likely this is the sphades tableAnd yet another hairstlyeathletes/coachesDJ Nev-DawgSo much food, so little timeWeekend trip to Syracuse. This time i met Sean Paul (pictured) and Mr. VegasGraduation!